Roanapur's Sea Devil
by DelayedInspiration
Summary: A drunken Gabe just murdered Sally. An enraged and terrified Percy just murdered Gabe. On the run, the boy learns that world is not a nice place, and you have to be cold to survive. However, a foul-mouthed gunslinger, a well-rounded black man, and a chill computer nerd may just be the best family the demigod could ask for.
1. Into the Fire

_Into the Fire_

 _ **Ladies and gentlemen, it has been a long time coming, coming all the way back from Chapter 19 of**_ **Leviathan** _ **, but it is HERE! The third and final story of the new trio introduced a year ago, the trio including**_ **Son of Jashin** _ **,**_ **Green-Eyed Ghoul** _ **, and…**_

 **Roanapur's Sea Devil!**

 _ **Now, the description says that is a crossover between**_ **Percy Jackson** _ **and**_ **Black Lagoon** _ **...you might be asking what Black Lagoon is. The short version? It's the most American thing Japan ever came up with, including, but not limited to guns, violence, explosions, high speed chases, death, murder, and a rockin' soundtrack. Go watch some AMVs on YouTube to get a feel for what's happening.**_

 _ **For those who do know what**_ **Black Lagoon** _ **is, imagine the story retold with a mute, gun-toting, DelayedInspiration-patented anti heroic Percy, and then imagine the story of**_ **Percy Jackson** _ **retold with that same Percy.**_

 _ **Expect extreme cursing (because Revy), drinking, smoking, torture, the mafia, the mob, the cartel, death, shoot-outs, and badassery...also psychology, and non-canon shenanigans.**_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _Percy Jackson and the Olympians_ is owned by Rick Riordan, and _Black Lagoon_ is owned by Rei Hiroe

 _ **Get ready, cause I'm dropping you suckers into the fire headfirst.**_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gabe cackled madly as he laid into Sally from behind. She was on her hands and knees, fully clothed except for the tear in the back of her pants. The man taking her was much the same, with only his pants unzipped and unbuttoned. Gabe's mustache was dripping with beer, and his teeth were stained yellow with the cheap alcohol.

This wasn't the first time Sally had been forced to satisfy her drunken husband's desires, but it had never been like this...not in front of her son.

Angry at having been fired for his negligence, Gabe had been in more of a fit than he usually was, and at the onset of his intoxication, he had, in a rage, demanded that Percy stay and watch, lest he be next.

Sally had fought against that, and that was why her cheek was bruised, her mouth was full of blood, and three of her teeth were missing.

As her body jerked, she managed a strained, bloody smile for her eight year old son. He was still horrified and unable to move. He was rooted to the stairs to the upper floor of the apartment, and Gabe was taking Sally no more than five feet away from where Percy was standing.

Gabe's breathing rapidly increased, and Sally could tell he was about to finish...he was going to finish, this nightmare would end, beds would be occupied, and a new day would start. It was all for Percy, she reminded herself, it was all for keeping him safe, his scent masked.

Truly, Sally couldn't have picked a more despicable human being to marry.

With a series of loud grunts, Gabe put his full weight onto Sally, causing her arms to collapse from the strain. She shuddered, and not in pleasure, as she felt her uterus become filled with the fat man's seed.

On top, Gabe leveled an absolutely lecherous grin at the pale and shaking boy that was his lawful step-son. And laced in this grin was a smile of drunken malice.

"I want you to _watch_ this…" Gabe slurred.

He grabbed Sally's hair and jerked her head up, exposing her neck. He grabbed the knife the woman had threatened him with, discarded to the side yet within his arm's reach. Sally's eyes widened, Percy's eyes widened, and he launched himself forward.

"Mom-!"

 _SCHLK_

The child's hands came to his face as it was _sprayed_ with red. His eyes burned, his nose was filled with the coppery scent, and his mouth... _his mouth_! Percy's legs buckled and he flopped to his knees as shock overcame him. He gagged and he gasped, his tongue burning with a taste. His eyes fluttered open, bloodshot and dripping with a blood that wasn't his.

He wished he hadn't.

His mother's neck was painted red, red covered her teeth, red fell from her mouth, and her eyes had rolled into the back of her head. With a cackle, Gabe dropped her, and she slammed into the floor with a thud. Instantly, a pool of red began to spread under her.

Percy crawled to her, his hands shakily hovering over her hair. He tried to speak, but his throat still burned and all he managed was a choked rasp.

Gabe chortled. "Now for round two."

Percy's pupils dilated as a primal terror engulfed him. The fat man approached his hand outstretched, and Percy's body demanded a decision between two choices: fight or flight.

An errant thought beamed across the boy's mind, and he raced up the stairs to Gabe's room, and slammed the door behind him. The walrus-like man blinked when his step-son practically blurred away, and then he heard a loud slamming from the general area of where he traditionally fucked Sally.

"He just went into my room." A lecherous grin, "Perfect."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gabe called it a .38 special. A simple snub-nose revolver with a simpler design. Just a chrome body with a black grip and red bead sight. It was also unloaded, with all the bullets being sealed up in an unopened box.

Percy rifled through the drawers of the room, knowing his time was short. He heard the heavy thumping of his stepfather as he stomped up the stairs. Breathing picking up, Percy found the gun, and the bullets. With rapid, trembling hands, he removed the revolver and the box, not at all with gentle movements.

 _BANG_

Percy flinched as Gabe slammed into the door. Luckily, the boy had the foresight to lock it from the inside. Now with a window, Percy ripped open the box and spilled the bullets all over the floor. The air became filled with the scent of magnesium and brass.

 _BANG_

 _BANG_

"OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR!"

Heart hammering against his chest, Percy fiddled with the gun, desperately trying to find how you brought out the cylinder.

 _BANG_

Percy grabbed a handful of bullets, fumbling with them as he tried to get them into the little holes.

 _BANG_

Percy flinched and dropped all but one.

 _CRASK_

Gabe busted through the wood. With a roar, the walking cellulite threw open the rest of the portal, littering the floor with splinters and a ruined door. He turned his beady eyes to the hole he was about to violate, and his entire world came grinding to a halt as he stared down the barrel of his own weapon. Further down the barrel was a panicked eye of a strange shade of green.

 _CLICK_

Gabe flinched, expecting to be dead. Nothing happened, and he began to laugh. "A-At least you kn-knew to p-pull back the fucking hammer!"

Percy's jaw fell and his eyes became wider than tea saucers. He stared at the gun in his hands, his last route of salvation, terrified at the implications this failure would bring. What had happened? What had gone wrong? Gabe approached, so Percy did the only thing his terror-stricken mind could come up with: try again.

 _CLICK_

Gabe got closer.

 _CLICK_

And closer—

 _CLICK_

— _closer!_

The crack of gunfire made all within the apartment complex flinch.

Percy looked just as shocked as Gabe, shocked as the smoke curled from the barrel, barrel at the blistering smell of gunpowder in the air, and shocked at the effects of the successful shot. However, if there was one key difference between Gabe and Percy, it was that Percy didn't have a hole in the middle of his forehead that was leaking a generous amount of blood.

The dead man's legs collapsed under his weight, and his face-first meeting with ground put him on the perfect trajectory to smush the boy...had he not rolled out of the way.

Percy stared at Gabe, wide-eyed, and then he realized that he himself wasn't breathing, and began to drink in oxygen by the mol in an episode of hyperventilation. He had just killed a man-he had just killed a manhehadjustkilledaman-!

 _He had just killed_ _Gabe_.

And suddenly, the severity of the situation waned, and his erratic breathing evened out.

But Percy could hear it; he could hear the rapid thumping of footsteps all over, all of them encroaching, surrounding, getting closer and closer. He needed to go, needed to leave before people came and took him away, throwing him in jail, or sticking him with some other family.

He didn't know what he was doing, he didn't know what to do, but he knew he needed to do it quickly.

The first thing he did was flip the cylinder back out and reload it to capacity, then he stuffed his pants pockets with the rest of the brass death dealers.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Winter clothes on, bag packed, gun in pocket, door being banged on...Percy stared at his dead mother, tears falling down his red speckled face.

"I...I…"

His throat still burned, his voice only a raspy whisper.

He mouthed, _I love you, Momma_.

The banging on the door got louder, heavier, the door itself shuddering under the force being applied to it. Percy took that as his cue to leave. He made his way to his own room, opened the window, and climbed onto the fire escape.

Into a new world, did he enter.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Percy had no idea what to do, where to go, how to get there, or anything, really. He walked down the street, one of the hundreds that made up the sprawling throngs of Manhattan. He didn't know what he was going to do about eating, about sleeping, about living.

On a very serious note, Percy fully expected to die within the month.

He heard the wailing of sirens, felt his heart stop in the fear that he had been found, but the police cars went zooming past, heading for the apartment complex, no doubt to gather evidence at the scene.

Percy scowled at his feet.

Gabe hurt his mom, then he killed his mom, and then Gabe tried to hurt him in the same way, so he killed Gabe with his own gun. If he got caught, he'd be taken to a room, interrogated, and then stuck with some random family to spend the rest of his days with.

That wasn't going to happen, ever.

Someone grabbed his shoulder.

"Kid, you alright?" An older man, face wrinkled and covered in hair. He smelled and his clothes were ragged, dirty and torn. A homeless man, for sure. "Your face is-"

Percy remembered that he had never cleaned the blood off his face. He wrested himself free from the grip of the man, and took off down the sidewalk.

"Hey, wait! Stop that kid!"

Of course, with all the car horns and other sounds, the man's words were lost, and anyone that did hear disregarded the cry. It wasn't their problem to deal with. Still, that didn't stop the homeless man from giving chase.

Percy ducked into the first alley he saw, and then something came flying into his peripheral vision. Time slowed; it was a baseball bat—Percy could see the looping lines along the wood. He leaned back, sliding to his knees. His jeans ripped and his skin was torn away by the unforgiving concrete, but he dodged the incoming bat.

He was on his feet, but before he was off and running again, in that scant few nanoseconds, he was able to glance around and drink in the rest of the alley. Thugs, four of them after the one with the bat. In an episode of agility that left Percy surprised with himself, he weaved through all of them, perceiving their movements with detailed clarity.

He almost made it out the alley when he heard a strangled cry.

"Help!"

Percy looked behind, and he saw the homeless man. The thugs had turned their attention to him, pinning him to the ground, ripping and tearing at his clothes and pockets. Percy saw the desperation in his old eyes, the fear, the hope for assistance.

"Help me! Someone, please!"

"Shut your mouth!"

The bat met the man's teeth, damaging all of them. Their poor health from an extreme lack of dental care combined terribly with the force of the wood.

In Percy's pocket, the .38 Special weighed heavily.

The weapon was in his hand in the blink of an eye, and just like with the bat, just like so many times with so many other phenomena, Percy processed things like a video with only .25x the playback. One shot after the other, one hammer pull after another, and the boy gunned down five more people in the span of three seconds.

Now, gunshots were not like car horns. They grabbed attention wherever they were, and on the streets, people flinched and scrambled and screamed.

Percy wasted no more time, not a look back to the homeless man, not the few seconds needed to reload. He was off and running, becoming but one of a group of hundreds.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Montauk.

That was where he was going to go.

He knew the way, he had been taken there plenty of times. He didn't have any money for the bus, not without probably threatening someone with his gun, but…

He didn't intend to be reduced to such drastic measures.

Knowing where he was going, knowing how to get there from where he was at, Percy set off for his favorite place in the world.

By car, without traffic, it would take one going to Montauk from the Upper East Side about two and a half hours. On foot, it was going to take almost two days. Starting his journey at about nine, it would be almost two in the morning before Percy's fatigue finally caught up with him when he was in the area of Cunningham Park.

He climbed a tree and got comfortable...and then it all came crashing down on top of him.

His mom was _dead_.

He had _killed_ Gabe.

He had _killed_ _five_ other people.

He was _homeless_.

He was _alone_.

And he cried himself to sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _Roanapur_

 _HQ of Hotel Moscow_

In New York, halfway around the world, it was the dead of night. In Thailand, it high noon.

In her office, the most powerful woman in the underworld, perhaps even the overworld as well, was reviewing mission reports, expenditures, funds transfers, munitions orders, and reflecting on life, all while smoking a cigar.

Dressed in a red suit with the jacket of a high ranking Russian military officer draped across her shoulders, with eyes that would range from light grey, to warm teal, to an arctic blue depending on how she was feeling, and a smattering of burn scars on her face, chest, running all the way down to her leg, Balalaika, the leader of one of the most powerful branches of the Russian mafia, was not a woman to ever be crossed, nor was she a person you ever said 'no' to.

A light rapping at her door prompted a clear "Come in."

Boris entered. Her sergeant, a huge man, loyal, powerful, shortly cut dark hair, a scar running from above his right eye, across the bridge of his nose, to the middle of his left cheek. The Afghan forces were rather skilled with their blades. If memory served, Boris still had the knife that scarred him in a display case...next to the severed head of the man who scared him.

"Kapitan…" he rumbled in his low voice. His tone caught Balalaika's attention, though she didn't look up from her papers. "There's been a development in America."

"Did their government grow a spine and wipe out those ridiculous idiots that call themselves Crips and Bloods?"

"No."

"Damn."

After years of working with her, Boris knew that the one-word response was his que to give his news.

"Kapitan...Sally was murdered five hours ago."

Balalaika's cigar fell from her mouth.

"And Percy?" she asked in strangled voice. Her head was bowed, her bangs hiding her eyes.

"Missing."

"Gabriel?"

"Murdered. A .38 Special cartridge to the center of the forehead. An instant kill."

"What happened, Sergeant?"

"The Americans say that it was a case of domestic abuse gone too far. Intoxication lead to rape—" Balalaika twitched— "rape lead to murder, and then it finished with Gabriel's death. Most likely at the hands of Percy."

"Details, Sergeant." From the shadows of her bangs, her arctic blue eyes glowed.

"Gabriel was fired from his job and arrived at the apartment and was quickly intoxicated. He proceeded to force himself onto Sally after a violent altercation, and then he slit her throat with a kitchen knife. Fingerprint analysis of the surrounding area revealed Percy's prints around the area of the stairs. It is suspected that Gabriel made Percy watch.

"The door to Gabriel's room had been broken down, and, given that is where his body was found, his gun is missing, and there was an empty box of bullets found nearby, the likely scenario is that Percy holed himself up in Gabriel's room, locked the door behind him to buy time, and looked for, found, and loaded a Model 60-7, which he used to shoot Gabriel in the head. After that, he most likely fled in fear of the police. His whereabouts are currently unknown."

Silence pervaded the office.

"...Kapitan...your orders?"

"We're going to Montauk."

"Sir?"

Balalaika looked at him. "Percy's scared and alone and on the run. He has no one he can turn to, and nowhere he can go, except for one place: the cabin on Montauk beach. You said this happened four hours ago? On foot, he might have gotten as far Queens, and if he's heading for Montauk then he has about a two-day's walk ahead of him. By plane, it's almost a nineteen-hour flight, nonstop, to JFK Airport, that'll give us time to get to the cabin ahead of him, and wait. Now _move_ , Sergeant! And pack the special ammunition, I suspect a fight on our hands of a supernatural nature."

Boris nodded. " _Pryamo seychas_ , Kapitan!"

The scarred man left to prepare the nearest plane.

Now alone, Balalaika opened a drawer and pulled out a framed photo of Sally, holding a bundled babe with black hair and sun-kissed skin.

' _I'm not letting those idiots in the sky get their hands on you,_ plemyannik _.'_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Percy awoke to the cold. It didn't bother him as much as it should have, considering his body temperature had already adjusted for the chilly weather of New York in the morning during the winter. He was hungry, but he would manage.

He hopped down from the tree he had been sleeping in, remembered he needed to reload his gun, reloaded it—he was getting good at that—and took stock of his remaining bullets. He had fifteen left, with five more ready to be fired.

Now armed and ready, Percy set off to the east.

For Montauk.

But then he happened across a stream, saw his red-crusted reflection, and washed himself. There, now his face was clean again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Manhattan in the morning wasn't any different than Manhattan at night. Bustling cars, throngs of people, construction out the ass and vendors everywhere. If there was one thing out of the norm, it was the news broadcasts that could be found on the displayed televisions in the windows.

Or more specifically, the morning news.

" _Last night, Gabriel Ugliano and Sally Jackson were found dead in their apartment, and their eight year old son, Percy, is currently missing. Gabriel was killed via a gunshot wound to the head, and Sally from having her throat slit. Authorities say that Gabriel came home after being fired and became heavily intoxicated, before sexually assaulting Sally. She attempted to defend herself with a kitchen knife, only to be disarmed, and then killed with that knife. It is suspected that Percy, Sally's son, fled to Gabriel's room and found the man's gun, a Smith & Wesson Model 60-7, and locked the door behind him, prompting Gabriel to break it down, which lead to his death via his own weapon._

" _Percy Jackson's whereabouts are currently unknown, however, at 10:04 last night, multiple people called in about a shooting. Authorities arrived to find John Ashwood, a homeless Vietnam veteran, with his teeth smashed in, surrounded by the bodies of five suspected gang members, though no gang has stood up to claim them as their own. Upon being questioned, Ashwood said that he saw a boy on the street, face covered in dry blood, and he accosted the boy. The boy fled from him and Ashwood gave chase, following the boy into an alley, where the suspected gang members ambushed him, and attacked._

" _Ashwood said that he initially thought the boy had lead him down the alley on purpose, but after calling out for help, the boy pulled out a gun and opened fire, killing all five suspected gang members, before fleeing from the scene. The bullets match the ones used traditionally used for Smith and Wesson .38 Specials, the same kind of gun owned by Gabriel Ugliano. When given a description of Percy Jackson, Ashwood confirmed that was the boy who had saved his life._

" _Currently, Percy Jackson is considered armed and dangerous. If you have any information regarding his location or any potential sighting, please call this number below:"_

Percy's dyslexia prevented him from accurately reading the string of numbers as they bounced and vibrated about.

" _Authorities warn to stay away from Percy if you see him, as he may be unstable, and may open fire if he feels threatened. Next up: how this event has raised new questions and concerns regarding gun control."_

Percy turned away and continued his journey after that. So they knew his face, were looking for him, and thought he was crazy enough to shoot you if you came close enough to him.

Whatever, he had somewhere to be and a growling stomach to deal with later.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

People weren't very good at paying attention. That, or they just didn't care enough to pay attention. Or they simply had something more important to pay attention to. Other than a wanted little boy on the street.

If anyone saw Percy, they just gave him a sideways glance. If they gave him more than a sideways glance, they didn't recognize him. If they recognized him, they didn't do anything. Maybe it was because he was simply another story to them, or maybe it was because they were desensitized to all things at this point in their lives in this stinking city.

The sun had long since set when Percy's stomach practically roared, but he still ignored it, just as he ignored the fire in his legs from walking for hours straight. There was a forest of pine trees nearby, the Long Island State Pine Barrens Reserve. It was good a place as any to rest for another night. It would probably take most of tomorrow, but he would finally be at Montauk.

Percy headed for the park, and he almost made it before the police cruiser rolled around the corner, and just so happened to see him walking across the field to the forest.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hey, isn't that that kid that's on the news?"

"Well I'll be damned. You know how much OFC is offering for his head?"

"How much?"

"Ten grand."

"Nice~. Wanna split it down the middle?"

"Fuck yeah."

…

"Why does OFC have a bounty for him, anyway?"

"He killed five of their members last night."

"Oh~, okay. Let's kill us a kid!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Percy almost broke into a run as soon as he heard sirens, but maybe they weren't coming for him. Maybe it was ambulance, or a fire truck. No such luck, and running at this point, with the cruiser zooming up to him, would only add to suspicion. He may end up having to shoot his way out of this…

What was he saying—these were _police officers_. Good people, honest people, the kind of people you went to in times of need. Maybe he had been wrong about all this; maybe it was going to be better for him, going with the police, starting a new life. A roof again, a bed, food, a family...a future.

The cruiser stopped, and Percy headed towards it, even though the lights were blinding him. They had turned the sirens off though, so that was nice.

The passenger door opened, and a smiling officer stepped out.

"Are you Percy Jackson?"

The boy nodded.

"I see. Could you come with us, then? We'd like to ask you some questions."

Percy nodded again.

The officer opened the rear passenger door, and Percy felt like a weight was being lifted off his shoulders as he was feet away from climbing in. Then he heard it.

The sound of a button being undone, the sound of something being drawn, the rustle of clothes...he glanced behind him, and then he was in motion. He didn't even consciously move; it was merely his body reacting. His gun was in hand, the red bead lined perfectly with the officer's face.

Once again did Percy see things in slow motion. He saw the sleazy look on the officer's face. His gun out and pointed where his head had been. His partner reaching for the shotgun. They were trying to kill him—they were trying to kill him.

 _Police officers_ were trying to _kill_ him.

A single crack of gun fire shattered the silent night.

The officer's gun went flying from his hand—Percy hit the ground—on reflex, he snagged the black weapon—then he shot the other officer through the eye. The bullet must have gotten lodged there and not gone through, because the man who attempted to kill him dropped the shotgun and clutched his eye, screaming.

Percy put another bullet through the man's head, his green eyes dull.

And then he was running into the forest, running as far as he could, and running farther.

Mom had been wrong. Police were bad guys. Police couldn't be trusted.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The Russians touched down at JFK twenty hours after 2:30 yesterday afternoon, and they already had personnel waiting for them. While the Russian mob didn't have the biggest presence in America, they did have a presence nonetheless, and Balalaika and her entourage slid into the limousines with all the authority of high ranking military officials.

The drivers didn't ask questions, for they already knew where they were headed. With a screeching of tires, Hotel Moscow was tearing down the roads for Montauk. All the while, they occupants were casting dark and weary looks at the sky-bound mountain.

They needed to be careful here. No longer were they protected by the human stink of Roanapur, and this many of them in one place was bound to attract attention, and not just from beasts. However, that was why everyone was loading guns.

The limos were filled with the sounds of clacking and hammer pulling as magazines were loaded and bullets chambered. Instead of a gleaming brass, the death dealers gleamed bronze.

Balalaika's dead eyes were glued ahead. In about two and a half hours, they would be at Montauk, and then it was a waiting game.

If Percy didn't show up within the next two days, then she would pull strings she hated to pull, but if meant the wellbeing of her _plemyannik_ , then so be it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Percy's legs would give out underneath him and he would collapse to the damp earth beneath his feet. He would be too tired to move into a better position, and would therefore pass out on the ground without so much as a care for being eaten or found.

When morning came, he realized he still had the officer's gun in hand. He didn't at all recognize the black pistol, but it was a simple design. A Heckler and Koch Mark 23. No added attachments, just the pistol itself and a couple of bullets left. Percy like it.

A reminder that men who were supposed to be good weren't good.

Once again ignoring his rumbling stomach, the boy continued for Montauk.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A few muggers and a bunch of hours later, Percy made it to the beaches of northern Long Island, his Mark 23 empty, and Model 60-7 on its last full cartridge. The amount of people he had killed today…

It wasn't nearly as concerning to Percy as the number of limos park around the place. Or the large men with bigger guns seemingly patrolling. They didn't look like policemen, and their guns weren't the kind of guns policemen would use, and further on the note of them not looking like policemen, they didn't even look like they were from around here.

Especially the blonde woman who looked familiar.

Percy heard rustling behind him, and he whipped around, revolver aimed and ready. He saw not but a pair of massive red eyes peering at him from the shadows. A lump formed in his throat as a dog bigger than Gabe's Camaro came stalking into the visible spectrum. Thoughts raced across Percy's mind as this hellish hound came at him.

Did he fire? Did he run? What would all those people behind him do? Would they fire as well? At the hound or at him? Would they care who they shot at and who got hurt? Why was this dog so big? Would the revolver bullets even work? Would the people's bullets work? If he ran and the dog gave chase, would they all end up being slaughtered? If that was the case, then should he just run and use them as fodder while he made his escape? If he even escaped, what would he do then? The mauled bodies would attract attention, and if he was found in the general vicinity of so much carnage, he would undoubtedly get blamed for that just like he always got blamed for stuff he didn't even do.

The dog took one more step forward, and the crunching of its paw on the ground tore Percy from his thinking with such violent force that he flinched and fired. If the dog cared about it being shot at, it didn't show it. In fact, it looked more like the bullet had gone straight through the dog like it was made of air.

Percy was temporarily inclined to believe that the dog had actually just been a figment of his starved imagination, but the smell of its breath in the convinced the boy otherwise.

Alright, time to run.

Percy went blitzing for the cabin he and his mother had spent many a great night in, which was incidentally in the same direction as the battalion of foreign-looking people whom Percy planned to use as food for the dog lapping at his heels. A surge of panic struck him when he saw every gun they had pointed at him...no, at the dog. Still, he and the dog were rather closely tied in terms of firing line.

Percy's foot caught and he tripped.

In another surge of panic, his mind made itself up to think that the previous bullet had simply been something of a misfire, the lowlight of the shade playing a trick on his eyes. So, in a desperate bid for survival, he rolled over, aimed, and rapidly unloaded. At point blank range and in the setting sun, Percy saw very clearly how each bullet harmlessly whizzed _through_ the dog.

 _CLICK_

 _CLICK_

Oh no…

"Fire!"

And suddenly the air was torn to shreds by the sound of several full-auto weapons emptying their clips en masse. Percy rolled onto his front and covered his head, eyes closed tightly. The gunfire ended, and Percy waited till a count of three to peak. The dog was gone, and there was a pile of golden dust where it had once been. Actually, there were multiple piles of dust scattered about the beach. In the pile where the dog chasing Percy had been, there was a single black claw appropriate the size of the dog that was apparently gone now.

The boy didn't waste any time in any more thinking on account of being more or less surrounded. He was on his feet and running as fast as he could...and he ran smack into someone's knee. A knee he was pretty sure hadn't been there before. His head swam in pain as he laid on his back. Through his blurry vision, he saw a hulking specimen of a man with a grizzled face with an ugly scar on his temple, like he had been shot there.

Percy was hoisted up, gently, into the man's humongous arms.

"Sorry about that, _malen'kiy chelovek_."

The last thing Percy saw before his body, reeling from concussion and hunger and fatigue, fell unconscious, were the deeply concerned eyes of the blonde woman.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Balalaika stared at Percy, her eyes unreadable. A pack of hellhounds, nice. Perhaps from Hades, perhaps not. All in all, they were most likely a wild pack. Still, it took balls to fire at them with a gun. Most would have run away at the sight of those red eyes. Already did Percy have the respect of everyone present.

"Everyone load up! Back to the airport!"

While everyone did as instructed, Boris was more weary. "Kapitan, is that wise?"

"Sparky doesn't know he exists, so he won't be looking for any nephews in the sky. Besides, his eyes haven't been fully opened yet, so his aura's still contained. Once we leave American airspace though, it won't matter."

Boris nodded. He picked up the claw and shared a look with Balalaika. "If those had been the appropriate bullets, he would've killed the dog. I think it still counts."

"Agreed. We'll make a necklace out of it later and see what Percy says."

Boris loaded up, and Balalaika lit a cigar. She stared out over the darkening waters, a single thought floating through her head.

' _Do you even know of the people you left to die?'_

"Kapitan, we're ready!"

With one last lingering look over the ocean, the Russian veteran of war took her spot in the limousine.

Yuri and Boris were in this transport with her, Percy too.

"Give him here."

Yuri shifted around, and after some maneuvering, the black haired child was being cradled by Balalaika, a look so tender on her face she might as well have been holding her own offspring.

"What's the plan, Kapitan?" Boris asked.

"I don't have one yet. We have a twenty hour flight ahead of us, I'll think of something. For now, just let me enjoy holding my nephew for the first time in seven years."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _ **So, Balalaika and Sally are sisters, somehow, Balalaika and Hotel Moscow not only know about, but can**_ _ **see**_ _ **gods and monsters, and they have the weaponry necessary to combat them.**_

 _ **And let's take a moment to reflect on eight year old Percy's mental state, hm? Watched as his mother was raped and killed in front of him, had her blood splattered across his face and down his throat, rendering him unable to speak from shock alone, and then almost had the same happen to him if not for a gun.**_

 _ **From there, it was two days on the streets, involving, but not limited to, killing gangbangers, killing crooked cops, and killing street thugs, all the while developing a psychological fixation around guns.**_

 _ **Then he's almost eaten by some hellhounds, but he's rescued by his aunt and her loyal military organization consisting of Russian paratroopers from the Afghan Civil War.**_

 _ **Now, to talk continuity. The story of**_ **Black Lagoon** _ **actually takes place in the early nineties, meaning that Percy's introduction would be at the far end of BL canon, but that would derail from a lot of fun that could be had, so we're simply going to have Percy ride along with Lagoon Company from the very start.**_

 _ **It's going to be a blast.**_

 _ **Right, this concludes Chapter 1 of the newest story, so like all her sisters, show her some love by Faving, Following, and Reviewing!**_


	2. This Town

_This Town_

 _ **Yay, we hit the thirties with a single chapter! At that rate, we'll hit triple digits with three chapters. Let's call it a goal.**_

 _ **Anyway, on with backstory, exposition, character development, and the introduction of most of the**_ **Black Lagoon** _ **cast.**_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't own PJO or BL

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Percy woke in a cozy room he had never seen before, laying on a soft, leathery surface with a rather comfy blanket on him. He heard a knife like sound off to the side, and he was immediately up. Both his guns were still in his hands, and he had them both pointed at the source of the sound.

It was the blonde woman. She had used a cigar cutter to ready the cigar in her mouth. Looking at him calmly, she lit it, took a drag, and exhaled. "You can shoot if you want, but nothing's going to happen. They're both empty."

Percy still pulled the hammer back on both guns, calling what he thought to be a bluff.

The woman continued to look at him without any concern. "Even if those were loaded, and you did shoot me, there's a battalion of armed men ready to blow holes in you, the same men that killed those dogs that were chasing you."

Percy paused to consider...then he aimed his guns at the wall and pulled the triggers.

 _CLICK_

The boy frowned, then he looked at the bottom of the black pistol, frowned even deeper at seeing the hole in the handle where the bullets were supposed to be, and then he popped out the cylinder in his revolver, and frowned the deepest at seeing all the smaller cylinders were also empty. His eyes slid none too discreetly at the window.

"Yes, you can try jumping out, but keep in mind we're on the fourth floor and a fall like that might hurt a bit."

Percy turned his weary gaze back to the woman who didn't seem at all threatening, but at the same time, not at all friendly. She hadn't told him who she was, where they were at, why she had brought him here, nor why she looked kinda familiar. It was all putting Percy on edge, making him itch.

"I bet you're wondering who I am, where we're at, why I brought you here, and why I look familiar to you, yes?"

Percy looked decidedly startled at the blonde's intuitiveness.

"In order: my birth name is Sofiya Pavlovna, but you may call me Balalaika. You're in my office at Hotel Moscow, in Roanapur, Thailand. I brought you here because you need a place to live, and alone on the streets of New York is not permissible for one of my family, which leads into the last question."

At Thailand, Percy's eyes had gone wide. He didn't know exactly where Thailand was, but he knew it was far away. At 'my family,' he wanted to freak out. Balalaika got up, and walked over to him, her eyes hardening and yet softening at the same time.

"Percy...your mother was my younger half-sister. I'm your aunt, Percy."

There would be a silent count of ten as the green-eyed child processed all this, and after that count was over, his little fist went careening into his self-proclaimed aunt's chin. Her head snapped up and his knuckles throbbed-she had a strangely strong chin-but she wasn't moved. The blow had caused her jaws to clamp shut, biting the cigar clean in half. The burning half actually fell onto Percy's face, and his hand reflexively snapped down to bat away the offending heat. There wasn't any burn marks or scars, or even left over ash.

Perks of being the Sea God's son.

Percy couldn't see his aunt's face in its whole, but he saw enough to see her lips curl back into something of a proud grin.

"Your mother used to hit me like that all the time because she was always shorter than I was. I imagine your hand is hurting right now?"

Percy nodded.

"The pain will fade." Balalaika stepped back away from Percy's fist, moved her head back down and looked him in the eye. She didn't say anything, she wasn't sure what to say, but she eventually sat down on the couch next to her nephew.

"My grandmother died before I was born, and my grandfather was the military head of the USSR. My father was a disgraced fool, and my mother...let's just say she's a real pain in the head. Sally was an accident born out of a brothel, but she was still brought under Grandfather's roof regardless. Father fled the country and I've long since lost track of him, and where I followed in my grandfather's footsteps of joining the Russian military, Sally decided to pursue a career in books and literature. I found a life here, she found one in America.

"We stopped talking for the longest time, our paths in life not crossing, until a little over eight years ago, when I got a photo in the mail. My little sister laying in a hospital bed with a newborn in her arms, a letter telling me I had a nephew named Perseus Jackson, whose father was god of the sea."

Percy, who had been paying rapt attention, suddenly gave her a flat look.

Balalaika caught that look. "Ah, it would make sense that Sally wouldn't tell you about the larger family business. Your daddy's Poseidon, Greek god of the sea."

Percy's flat look remained.

"We'll talk more about that later."

Percy rapidly shook his head from side to side, throwing his hair wildly about. Then he stopped and pointed to the ground, the universal symbol for _now_. The Russian mafia boss sighed.

"So stubborn...fine then."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _An explanation later_

"...and they've sat on their collective asses for the past few decades and let the world as we know it steadily fall into a state of utter chaos, and shit."

After that wonderful rendition of the world of mythology, Percy's eyes turned to his feet as he soaked up and processed the wealth of information he had been given. The office delved into a silence only disturbed by the ticking of the clock. Balalaika contented herself to study her nephew as he went through his own sequence of events.

After as easy count of three minutes, Percy looked at his aunt and mouthed the words, _What now?_

Balalaika blinked. She just realized she hadn't heard him speak...at all. "You can talk, right? Sally never said you were mute."

Percy looked uncomfortable. He pointed at his throat and shook his head. The he said, verbally, in a scratchy, raspy voice that had Balalaika's ears begging for mercy, " _Don't...want...to...can't."_

The blonde stared at him. "Percy...what?"

" _Mom's...blood...my mouth...don't want...to talk_."

Then it crossed Balalaika's mind like a bullet from the sniper she was named after. Gabriel made Percy watch from less than five feet away. He slit Sally's throat, and the resulting blood splatter entered Percy's mouth. The vocal damage most likely wasn't anything truly physical, but mental and emotional.

Something only therapy and/or time could heal.

Maybe it would never heal, but speech problems weren't on Balalaika's list of concerns for the time being. Percy raised a valid question: what now? What now, indeed. Honestly, the Russian boss hadn't planned for that. She was far more preoccupied with getting her nephew out of the general vicinity of the idiots in the sky. What to do with him once they got back to Roanapur was something she had brushed aside in favor of a safe return, and now she was kicking herself.

He couldn't very well stay with her. Nephew or not, she still had a business to run, and looking after a child wasn't something she had time for. Granted, she had a loyal army of potential babysitters at her disposal, but none of Hotel Moscow were exactly what you would call 'family men.' Honestly, they lacked all sense of paternity whatsoever. Besides, they were veterans of the desert, descendants of a divine lineage (most of them, anyway), and they had all spilled more blood than what was legal in any country. Balalaika wasn't about to burden _those_ men with an eight year old.

Chang was a possibility, but like with her own situation, the man had a business to run, and he wouldn't be very keen to have his personnel wasted on babysitting duty.

Verrocchio and Abrego were definite hell no's.

That left only one serious option in regards to Percy's potential future, and while the first two men of that little company were definitely okay men, the woman of the group left...much to be desired. Brash, loud, foul-mouthed, a complete lack of maternal instincts, a borderline alcoholic, and confirmed chain smoker. Not the best environment for a child to live in, but hey.

This was Roanapur.

Children weren't supposed to be here anyway.

"Percy, do you know what it is that I do for a living?"

 _Kill people?_

"Yes, though I do it in a coordinated way that leaves no room for failure, argument, or retaliation. I run the Russian mafia in this part of the world, and am no stranger to expansion."

 _And you don't want me around to see that. I've killed people too, you know._

"Yes, I know that. Five small fry, a handful of enterprising individuals, and two American police officers."

 _They tried to kill me first._

Balalaika paused. Okay then. Moving on. "I run a business, Percy, the kind of business a child shouldn't ever be a part of." And then the veteran had an idea. "That's why I have some people in mind, people who will be able to teach you and train you to be better for this lifestyle...if you want to be a part of the underworld, that is."

Balalaika was honestly curious as to what her nephew would decide. If he chose against this life, then there wasn't much else he could do on this island.

Percy looked at her, and he nodded.

She nodded back. "I'll be right back."

She got up and almost left, but a tug at her dress made her turn around. Percy held up his guns with a sheepish expression. It took Balalaika a moment, but she figured it out.

"And I'll be back with some ammo, too."

Percy beamed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In the Lagoon Company residence, at this time in the morning, Dutch, the huge leader of the group, was going over some papers, Benny, the bespectacled computer genius, was flipping through the channels, and the last member was sound asleep in her room.

The relative peace and quiet was disturbed by the ringing phone. Dutch answered immediately.

"Hello? Oh, Miss Balalaika, what can I do for you?"

Benny watched and listened with rapt attention, raising a brow at all the expressions Dutch went through. The man's glasses even fell off a little bit at the revelation of some piece of information. Eventually, the phone call.

"What does Miss Balalaika want us to do now? Get some nukes?"

"I _wish_ it was going to be that easy…" Dutch said. He sounded like he was in shock; he was even leaning on the table for support.

Benny raised his other brow and lowered the first. "What'd she want?"

"She wants us to take care of her eight year old nephew for the foreseeable future."

"Oh, that's not that bad…" Benny turned back to the TV for a count of four, before he whipped around, his glasses askew.

"NEPHEW!?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The entire ride over to the Lagoon Company residence, Percy played with his guns, showing that, despite his earlier trauma, there was enough innocence left over to still be a child...that, or the presence of his aunt had introduced him into enough of an environment that he could be a child.

Either way, he became a self-taught gun spinner with room for improvement.

Percy hopped out the car with a sparkle in his eye. The crystal waters of the Roanapur bay twinkled and glimmered in the late morning sun, and for someone who was only accustomed to the dirty waters of the New York shoreline, the South China Sea was a magnificent sight.

Of course, the borderline rundown string of buildings behind the gun-toting youth were an excellent foil to the otherwise serene image.

"Percy, come along," Balalaika called.

He scampered to her side, grinning.

The blonde knocked lightly on the door, and it was opened by a humongous African American wearing a green flak jacket, and a pair of sunglasses. Percy stared at the man, for he had never seen so many muscles.

"Miss Balalaika," he greeted, voice deep and smooth.

"Dutch." She placed a hand on Percy's back and gently guided the boy forward. "This is my nephew."

Percy waved hesitantly.

The bald man looked down at him, regarding him. Those glasses shielding his eyes from view made Percy feel like he was being observed by some higher being, someone with great wisdom and experience, knowledge and intelligence. He fidgeted under that gaze.

"Glad to meet you, Percy. I'm Dutch." He held out at a hand.

Percy took it as much as he could, and squeezed as hard as he could in retaliation to his own hand being squeezed, presumably as much as Dutch could manage as well.

In reality, Dutch was only using half as much as his full strength.

"Hm, not a bad grip, kid."

"Yes, you'll come to find that Percy is full of surprise." Balalaika kneeled down next to her nephew. "Now, I expect you to be on your best behavior. Mind your manners, do what Dutch tells you, be helpful, and keep your guns sparkling clean. I love you."

Percy threw his arms around his aunt's neck, and gave her a big kiss on the cheek.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Before Balalaika pulled away, she had one last thing to say to Dutch. "Oh, and before I forget: Percy doesn't talk much, so learn how to read lips and play charades."

The black cars roared away for Hotel Moscow.

A large bead of sweat trailed down the back of Dutch's head. "Okay then."

He looked down at the expectantly smiling Percy.

"So, I hear you want to join Hotel Moscow when you're older."

 _Yep!_

Dutch blinked behind his glasses. _'Lip reading, right…'_

"Well, if you're going to be a part of Hotel Moscow, knowing your way around Roanapur will be the best start. Come on, I'll introduce you to Benny and Revy, if she's up."

The Lagoon Company residence was a tidy place, all things considered. There was a man on the couch, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, khaki pants, glasses, and had his blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, with the rest of it as thick on top, with bushy bangs across his forehead. He also had light stubble on his jaw.

"Benny-boy, this is Balalaika's nephew, Percy. He'll be staying with us until he's ready to join Hotel Moscow. We're going to be showing him around town today."

Benny smiled warmly. "Hey, Percy. Name's Benny. Nice to meet you."

Percy gave him a salute and a wide smile.

"Where's Revy?"

"Still sleeping, Dutch."

"Perfect," Dutch muttered.

And then the relative calm of the late morning was shattered by full-auto fire and the roaring of engines. No, it wasn't an attempt on lagoon Company's life, it was just some high speed gang-on-gang warfare. That didn't stop Benny from diving under the couch, or stop Dutch from drawing his S&W Model 629, or stop Percy from pointing his H&K Model 23 and is own S&W Model 60-7, or stop a massively loud raucous from upstairs.

" _WHAT THE FUCK!?"_

There was a loud banging as someone came thundering down the stairs.

And then Revy, in her bra-and-panty-clad glory, violently came onto the scene, Beretta 92fs Cutlasses brandished in her hands. For Percy, time slowed to a crawl once more as he drank in the sight of this new person. The wildness in her eyes, the fierceness in her snarl, the power in her muscles. Everything about her screamed at Percy. Her purple hair, brown eyes, her tattoo, the bangs, the gleam of her guns.

Percy was completely enamored with Revy, his mind drinking in every detail.

Dutch saw this. He saw the look on Percy's face, and it wasn't the look of a love-struck puppy. Percy wasn't looking at her like he had a crush, or anything even remotely related to romantic feelings. The was the look someone had on their face when they saw someone for the first time, and they became completely hooked on them, fixated on them, _obsessed_ with them.

Dutch saw that look on fresh soldiers right of boot camp when they saw a colonel for the first time. The look of a man who wanted to be just like someone else.

Considering this was an eight year old looking at a twenty year old, foul-mouthed, gun-toting, scantily-clad woman...that was not good.

Revy busted down the front door and hopped into the street, opening fire.

"You fucking shits woke me up, and now I'm gonna blow holes all over your fucking asses!" She ended her rant with a scream.

The two cars screeched and swerved as their occupants were shot and killed. Both vehicles ended up shooting off the road and into the water, where they sank, the bodies stuck inside. The water quickly turned red.

Just another lovely day in the beautiful city of Roanapur.

Revy grumbled and turned around. She saw a little green-eyed boy pointing a couple of guns at her with an expression she didn't recognize, but she did recognize guns being pointed at her.

"Shit!"

Revy dove to the side, expecting oncoming gunfire. It never actually came, but that didn't stop her from pointing her Cutlasses, trigger fingers ready. Then Dutch was in front of the kid, arms outstretched.

"SHIT!"

Revy was not able to stop herself from firing, but she was able to angle her guns to where the bullets went whizzing past Dutch's ears. The kid poked his head out from around the veteran's legs. Revy was in Dutch's face.

"The hell are you doing!? He's pointing a couple of fucking guns at me!"

"Good morning, Revy," Dutch said calmly. He stepped aside and let Percy and Revy see each other face to face. "Percy, this is the last member of our merry little band of pirates. Revy, this is Percy. He'll be staying with us for a little while. Balalaika wants us to train him to join Hotel Moscow."

Revy stared at Percy with a dubious expression, then she looked at Dutch. "This little bastard's going to be in Hotel Moscow? Bullshit. This little shit doesn't even look old enough to be out of fucking diapers, and I sure as hell ain't wiping his fucking ass. The fuck is Sis doing anyway, letting a brat into Hotel Moscow?"

"Revy," Dutch said patiently, "Balalaika wants us to look after Percy because we're the only ones in Roanapur that she trusts to look after her him."

"And why the fuck is that?"

"Because Percy is Balalaika's nephew."

There was a decent count of three before the whole of the island came to a grinding halt at a monstrous cry.

" _WHAT THE FUCK!?"_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Benny was driving, Dutch was shotgun, and Revy was stuck with Percy in the backseat. The Chinese American didn't look particularly pleased at having to babysit the boy, regardless of his familial ties with Revy's Sis, her pet name for Balalaika. Percy himself was flicking the cylinder in and out of his Model 60-7 as he stared out the window, his H&K Mark 23 held in his other hand, the one being used to prop his chin up, and Revy was glaring at him for no other reason than she wanted to.

Dutch looked at her in the rearview. "Revy, I don't see what you're trying to accomplish by glaring at Balalaika's nephew."

The gunslinger growled. "I can't seriously be the only fucking one here who sees how much of a bad fucking idea it is to let this brat stay with us."

"It's going to be fine, Revy."

"Fine my ass! We're going to be on jobs and getting our asses shot at, worrying that none of us takes a bullet to the fucking head, _on top of_ worrying about this little fucker shitting himself and getting killed!"

"So you're worried about Percy not being able to handle himself."

"Damn right I'm worried!"

Dutch seemed to be smirking. "While I'm sure Balalaika would be touched with your concern regarding her nephew," Revy growled some more, "I think you'll come to find your concerns are unwarranted."

"And the fuck is that?"

"Because, after watching his mother get raped and killed in front of him, and after he killed his stepfather and ran off into the alleys, he spent two days on the streets of Long Island, where he killed no less than fifteen wannabe gangsters, and two police officers. He's a wanted man as we speak."

Revy blinked a few times, before she slowly looked at Percy.

The boy was twirling his guns around his fingers, his tongue pointed out the corner of his mouth as his face was screwed up in concentration. He must've felt eyes on him, because he stopped his twirling, and looked at Revy.

He flashed a peace sign.

Her response was to scoff and turn around. Due the light of the sun, there was a vague reflection of Percy in Revy's window, and she saw the hurt look on his face before he went back to his twirling. Revy stared at that ghost-like reflection in her window, stared at it with hollow eyes as her mind drifted back to the time that made her who she was.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"The Rip-Off Church?" Revy muttered as Benny turned the car off and everyone filed out. "Why are we here?"

"We need to show Percy around the town. The Rip-Off Church is as good a place as any to start," Dutch answered.

Percy looked at the church with a cocked head. He had never been in a church, he hadn't even read a Bible. His mom hadn't been a religious person, and neither was Gabe, so...not a lot of churchiness in Percy's life. This should be a fun experience.

Before anyone could knock, the doors were nearly busted down when someone was thrown out. It was a lanky, wimpy man dressed in a way that clearly belayed he was not from around here.

"P-Please, S-Sister! I d-d-didn't m-mean-!"

"Oh, shut up, will ya?" From out of the church, a nun with blonde hair poking out of her habit stalked out, a Glock 17L in her hand. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of purple shades. "You're whining is annoying."

 _PRACK_

No one of Lagoon Company flinched at the killing of a man right in front of them, and neither did Percy.

The nun noticed she had an audience. "Oh, hey Revy."

"Eda."

"And what brings all of you here? I don't remember any of you placing an order."

Revy jabbed her thumb off to the side. "We have to show _this one_ around the town, and Dutch thought it was a good idea to start at this dump."

"This one," Eda echoed slowly. She followed Revy's thumb and she saw a little boy waving lazily at her. She gave Revy a flat look. "He's not yours, is he?"

She was on the ground with a lump on her head before she could blink.

"Of course he's not fucking mine, you damn skank! He's Balalaika's nephew."

Eda was on her feet. "Balalaika's _what_?"

"Eda~," called an old voice from within, "what's going on out there? I trust our heretic friend isn't giving you that much trouble."

"Uhhh-no! That's been taken care of Sister Yolanda! It's, uh, well...better come see for yourself."

And then an older woman with an eyepatch over her right eye appeared from the shadows of within the church. She smiled warmly. "Dutch, always a pleasure."

"Likewise."

"Benjamin, how many times do I need to tell you to shave that beard?"

"At least once more like always," Benny said with a sheepish smile.

"And Rebecca-oh, who's this little one?"

"That would be why I called you out here," Eda said. "This is Balalaika's nephew. His name's-"

"Percy," Yolanda interrupted. Revy, Benny, and Eda looked surprised, while Dutch looked calm as ever. If anything, he actually looked like he was expecting this. The head of the Rip-Off Church kneeled down in front of the boy, a small, sad smile on her face.

"I knew your mother, child. She was a good, strong woman, and I can see you have her fire in you. Come, let's get to know each other better inside."

Yolanda led Percy inside the Rip-Off Church, Dutch followed, and the other three just watched with the stereotypical beady-eyed, slack-jawed, jagged teeth look of animated disbelief on their faces.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Percy waved jovially from the backseat of the car as Benny pulled away. Yolanda waved back, more subdued, and Eda just watched without much emotion, though she did blow a bubble with her gum.

When the Lagoon Company car was out of sight, Eda said, "He seems like a good kid...this town's going to ruin him."

Yolanda didn't say anything, but she did reenter the church. Eda took that as her cue to follow, but the very second they were shrouded in the shadows, the nun was pinned to the wall, the shadows darkened, and the undercover CIA operative knew terror.

Sound was robbed from the world, not even Eta could hear her own struggles as she was steadily lifted off the ground. Yolanda simply stood there, seemingly oblivious to everything happening. And then she turned around.

Eta's breath hitched in her throat as the world grew even darker, Yolanda's left eye being the only source of light, and what a hellish light it was.

"If you breathe a word to any American agency about Percy being here, Edith Blackwater...I will lay to waste to your soul."

Eda dropped to the ground, gasping and retching. When she looked up, the world had returned to its natural state, and Yolanda was smiling her usual warm, grandmotherly smile.

"What _are_ you?" Eda wheezed.

"Oh, just one of many who have made a deal with the Devil."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Lagoon Company showed Percy their PT boat, to which the boy displayed an unnatural amount of knowledge about. Dutch would ask Percy where at or what something on the ship was or where it could be found, and he would point it out with nary a thought. It worried the Vietnam vet about how easily Percy, who's never been on a PT boat in his life, could navigate it so easily.

That kind of ocean-going affinity belonged to only one branch of demigod.

Considering how much of Roanapur was unfriendly gang territory, there wasn't actually much Lagoon Company could show Percy without fear of getting shot at, and the only other place that was neutral enough wasn't exactly child friendly, and it wasn't exactly late enough...but, the time of day was good, because hopefully the riffraff hadn't shown up yet.

Benny drove everyone to Yellowflag Bar.

But on the way they were stopped by a blockade of stereotypical black mob cars. Or specifically, Triad cars.

The air wasn't hostile, but that didn't stop Dutch and Revy from having their muscles coiled for draw action.

"Dutch~!" Mr. Chang greeted happily. "I hear Ms. Balalaika brought family from overseas."

"She might have. Are you here to kill him?"

The Chinese man snorted. "Please, I can feel the snipers on me as we speak. No, I just wanted to meet the kid."

Dutch turned his head to the car. "Hey, Percy! It's okay."

Percy hopped out the back door, and scampered to the front lines.

Revy's eyes were darting around, looking at all the well-dressed Asian men, scanning the rooftops, scanning the windows. The sun was in front of the woman, beginning to set, so any chance of there being a gleam of either a scope or a barrel was slim. For a man who claimed to be here in the name of peace, he did a good job of picking a place that gave him an extreme tactical advantage.

Then Revy realized she was doing an active job of looking out for the brat, and didn't know how to feel.

Mr. Chang was all smiles and grins as he usually was when not in business mode. He kneeled down in front of Percy, still taller than the eight year old by an inch or two, and held out his hand with a grin.

"My name is Mr. Chang. Your aunt and I are business partners."

Percy put his revolver in his other hand, fiddling with his pistol, but he managed, and shook the offered hand.

 _Did you two try to kill each other?_

Chang blinked.

Dutch was perceptive. "Percy doesn't like to talk much. Balalaika already told me to brush up on my lip reading."

"Ah, well in that case...yes, your aunt and I have tried to kill each other, many times in fact, but Dutch here helped us settle our differences and become friends."

Percy looked at Dutch, then he looked back at Chang. _Was she winning?_

The Triad leader busted out laughing and got back to his feet. "She was actually, but it was looking like a pyrrhic victory, so we made a deal."

 _What deal?_

"A ceasefire and territory claims, along with repairs here and there and some reimbursement for lost men and wasted bullets. Fun times. Well Dutch, I think this has been an outstanding first meeting with Roanapur's newest crime lord." He grinned. "I look forward doing business with you, Mr. Percy."

The boy smiled and waved as the Triad personnel drove away, then he looked at Dutch.

 _I like him._

"I like him too...sometimes. Come on, we've got one more place to show you before we turn in for the night."

Revy let out a silent breath as a foreign sense of relief came over her. Percy tugged on her shorts. "What, brat?"

 _Are you okay?_

Revy's eye twitched. "What?"

 _Are you okay?_

Revy grabbed his shirt. "Will you _please_ speak the fuck up?"

" _Are...you...o...kay?"_

Revy looked like she had just been slapped in the face with a tuna. "Never mind, don't ever talk again...and yeah, I'm okay."

Percy beamed and hopped in the car.

Dutch and Benny were both looking at Revy expectantly.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"This is the Yellowflag Bar," Dutch said. "It was founded by Southern Vietnamese soldiers who survived the war. They started taking in fugitive soldiers too, and before we knew it, the place had gone straight to hell. Hookers, junkies, mercenaries, hitmen, irredeemable criminals, every one of them."

Percy just looked at the bar with a tilted head. He pointed to all the rooms above the neon sign, and then looked at Dutch expectantly.

"That would be the Sloppy Swing, it's a brothel, and somewhere you'll never be going so long as any of us are alive."

Percy tilted his head to the other side. _What's a brothel?_

"What?"

Percy frowned, and then enunciated better. _WHAT'S...A...BRO...THEL?_

Dutch stared silently ahead. _'If I tell him, he'll be that much more corrupted. If I don't tell him, he'll find out for himself and probably be scared for life...he's already scarred for life, and this is Roanapur. He's going to be corrupted anyway.'_

"Percy, a brothel is a place you go to to have sex with a woman."

 _Oh._

"Do you know what sex is?"

 _Yes._

Dutch nodded. "Alright then. Less I have to explain. Let's go introduce you to Bao."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So this is the kid that has Roanapur's panties in a twist," the ARVN veteran known as Bao said when Lagoon Company got situated at his bar. Percy idly kicked his legs back and forth, guns still in hand. "I've heard a lot of rumors, ranging from he's Balalaika's son, to her genetic clone, to her thirty-two-greats grandson from the far future. So what's the truth?"

"He's Sis' nephew,' Revy grumbled. "Now get me the strongest thing ya' got."

Bao didn't look particularly surprised as he set down a thing of Bacardi. "Nephew, huh? I always thought Fry Face was an only child."

"Yeah? You thought fucking wrong." Revy poured a shot and downed it. Percy eyed the bottle. Revy moved it away from him. "Not for you, brat."

Percy pouted.

"So what brings you rejects here? Just wanted a drink, or what?"

"Ms. Balalaika wanted us to show Percy around town, and so here we are."

"Yeah, because this is the greatest place in Roanapur to take the kids."

"Sorry, but the nearest fucking daycare is a few hundred miles away."

Bao frowned.

"Don't worry about her," Dutch said. "Revy's been moody like this all day."

"Fuck you!" She downed her fifth shot.

"Not entirely sure why, honestly."

Percy reached for the bottle of rum, and had his hand slapped by Revy. "Not. For. You."

Percy frowned again.

"Maybe she's on her period?" Bao suggested.

Revy downed her eleventh shot. Now the bottle was empty. "Ahhh! Get me another one, dammit! And fuck the both of you!"

"When and where, sweetheart?" Bao set down another bottle.

"A hundred fucking years ago in a place where peace exists." Revy uncorked the bottle with her mouth, and started guzzling rum like a boss.

Then someone busted through the saloon doors without a care in the world. All conversation came to a grinding halt at the arrival of this newcomer, or rather, newcomers. It was a gang of five men, mercenaries by their grizzled looks, all armed with automatic weapons.

"A hundred grand to the person who kills Balalaika's little bastard over there at the bar!"

About fifty heads turned towards Lagoon Company at once, and maybe five of those fifty heads didn't come accompanied by a firearm of some kind.

Revy summed up the situation with just one word:

"Fuck."

Lagoon Company dove over the bar counter as soon as the first bullet was fired.

"Dammit, Revy!" Bao roared over the gunfire. "Why is that every time you come in here, my place gets shot up!?"

"Oh, blow it out your asshole, you pussy!" The Chinese American woman was besides herself right now, guns in hand with a terrifying grin on her face.

Benny was calmly smoking a cigarette, used to these occurrences, and Dutch had his 629 in hand. Sweat broke out across his forehead and something he saw, and it had nothing to do with guns.

' _Oh man, if Balalaika finds out about_ _this_ _, it's going to be my ass!'_

Percy was casually downing a bottle of rum all by himself. He finished off his bottle, swayed a little from where he was sitting...on then his eyes snapped open, glowing with all the power of a hundred sons.

He popped over the counter and hurled the empty rum bottle at a man with such terrific force that the bottle blew the dude's head away like a point blank shotgun blast. Percy charged forward, dodging all bullets through a combination of speed, reflex, idiot accuracy, and plot armor. He snagged the headless guy's gun clean out the air, and promptly unloaded the magazine at everyone within the immediate vicinity.

Percy moved with such speed that as soon as the gun clicked and the slide remained back, he had time to throw it at someone's face, where it lodged itself into the unfortunate man's skull, _and_ grab two more mid air guns before they could clatter to the ground, and then Percy was spinning on the balls of his feet like a professional ice skater, fingers spazzing like mad.

Those guns also ran out of ammo, and then Revy entered the fray, adding to the cacophony her own instruments of death, a crazed grin on her face. Percy's eyes were still glowing brightly like a star, and he rolled on the ground, coming up in a kneel with yet another pair of guns whose owners were cooling on the ground, rapid-firing, gunning down men left and right.

Percy heard the pulling of a hammer behind him, and instead of turning and looking, he spun and kicked a whole table into the air, sending poker chips, money, shot glasses, and a couple of bottles sailing in the air. He dove to the side when automatic fire came peppering through the table, and with this new line of sight, he put a bullet through two of the five instigating mercenaries' heads.

Revy put down two more, as well as the remaining thugs, leaving only the boss.

He just chuckled and whipped out a pair of sawed-off double-barrel shotguns from behind his back. The grips and forearms were a beautiful stained cherry, the barrels polished black and gleaming, and the chambers and trigger guards were nickel plated, and engraved with the traditional swirling pattern found on guns from the American West. They were elegant weapons used by a man with no true clue of how to use them properly.

"My turn, bitches!"

There were so many guns on the ground that all Percy had to do was dive, roll into a kneel, and, with the reflexes of a demigod, accurately put one final bullet right in the middle of this guy's forehead. He fell to his back with blood squirting from his face.

The jarring impact with the ground caused both shotguns to fire prematurely, and blow massive holes through the Yellowflag's wooden supports. There was a terrible groaning sound, and Dutch's eyes widened behind his glasses.

"Everybody out!"

Where everyone went for the door, Percy went back to the bar, dodging through the arms that tried to grab him. He hopped over the counter, grabbed his own guns after throwing those other ones away, hopped back over the counter, and sped through the bar before the second floor came crashing down.

The boy dove out of the dust cloud with a dopey grin on his face.

Everyone was flabbergasted, Bao crying over his bar being destroyed (again), and Percy giggled, putting his guns into his pockets. He walked back to the wreckage, rummaged through it, and came up with something that put a smile to his face, a proud one.

In his hand was one of the sawed-off shotguns, gleaming in the moonlight.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The phone of the Lagoon Company rang, and everyone but Percy's blood went cold. Percy was busy playing with his three toys. Dutch picked up the phone.

"Lagoon Company. Dutch speaking."

" _Dutch~,"_ it was the sickly-sweet voice of a not happy Balalaika. _"I hear that Yellowflag has been destroyed again, and Bao is complaining about Revy. I take it Percy was involved?"_

"Yes, ma'am."

" _Was he injured?"_

"If he was, would we be having the conversation?"

" _Hm, fair point."_

If Percy had been injured, or worse, killed, Lagoon Company would've been in the middle of the Pacific right now, motoring away from Roanapur with all the speed they could manage.

" _What happened tonight, Dutch?"_

"Just some local punks looking to get back at you. It was handled."

" _Yes, the 57 dead bodies pulled from the rubble confirm that. Tell me, did Percy have anything alcoholic to drink?"_

"..."

" _Answer me, Dutch."_

"...an entire bottle of rum."

Balalaika didn't sound happy the next time she spoke. _"The results?"_

"He killed upwards of thirty armed men like a bat out of hell."

" _Oh."_

"Yeah...anything else?"

" _How was his first day?"_

"Good as can be expected. Took him to the Rip-Off Church, showed him the boat, had a run-in with Mr. Chang, and then finished the day off at the Yellowflag. He likes his guns."

" _That he does. I'm glad to hear that he's fitting in nicely. How are his clothes?"_

"Blood splattered."

" _Hm. Buy him a wardrobe tomorrow, anything he wants. I'll reimburse you. I also have a job coming up for you, and I want you to take Percy with you, expose him to field work."_

"Will do, ma'am."

" _Excellent. Goodnight, Dutch, and tell Percy that I love him."_

"Yes, ma'am."

Balalaika hung up, and so did Dutch. The black man breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

"So I take it we get to live relatively peacefully, then?" Benny asked.

"For now, Benny-boy. Hey, Percy." The boy looked at Dutch. "Your aunt says she loves you." Percy just beamed. "And it's also your bedtime." Percy pouted, then yawned.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After Percy was tucked in in the guest bedroom, Dutch had a one on one with Revy, as Benny was outside for a smoke.

"I know why you don't like him. Orphaned on the streets of New York, abusive parent, cops, guns, running...he reminds you of your past, and you hate being reminded of your past."

"Yeah, well, what the fuck am I supposed to do about it, huh? What the fuck are you going to do about it?"

The light reflected off Dutch's glasses. "I'm going to tell you...to get your shit together. Percy's living with us probably until we die, so you're stuck with him. Get used to it, get over yourself, and start being friendly. He might be a kid, but he's just as dangerous as you and I, perhaps even more so given who is aunt is. You better be careful around the kid, Revy. We might be on good terms with Hotel Moscow, but that won't stop Balalaika from blowing your brains out if you make Percy upset in the slightest way, and with the way you've treated him all day, I'm honestly surprised you're still walking. So get your shit together and start playing nice with your coworkers."

Dutch left to go join Benny.

Revy remained on the couch, glaring at the floor.

Dutch was right, though, as always. If she didn't get over herself, her attitude towards the sore reminder of her childhood was going to get her hurt. That being said, it was still difficult to just _move on_. Every time she thought of Percy, she thought of those cold nights on the street, those cops who beat her, the hobos she murdered for their stuff, the trash cans that served as her every meal, the father that put his dick where it didn't belong, and the mother that just stood there and watched.

Revy didn't know her eyes were red until she got a reflection of herself in the darkened screen of the TV. She shook her head to get the memories back down where they belonged.

"Get your ass in gear, Revy," she muttered. "You didn't let it bog you the fuck down back then, you don't let it bog you the fuck down now, and you can bet your ass you aren't gonna let it bog you down tomorrow. Gah...fucking brat…fucking my head over like this…"

Revy turned and looked at where Percy's room was, and her eyes softened, then she sighed to herself and turned in for the night.

What a wild ride of psychology that was coming for her upon the morn.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _ **So ends Chapter 2!**_

 _ **With a bar fight and some deep conversations about the inner workings of Revy's emotional center, and it only get worse for her the next chapter, as Percy's hooking onto her mannerisms and quirks manifests in a way that some will find humorous, and others will roll their eyes at.**_

 _ **Sorry it took so long for this, but with weekends occupied with work and family time, and weekdays occupied by school and work, writing time is slim.**_

 _ **Anyway, get ready for more wildness next chapter, and be sure to Fav, Follow, and Review!**_


	3. Obsession

_Obsession_

 _ **Yeah, no. Revy is not a love interest, nor will she ever be a love interest. She's not even going to be a sister figure, because those who know**_ **Black Lagoon** _ **know that Revy doesn't have a shred of maternity in her. The relationship between the two can't be described with words, because honestly...I don't know myself what their relationship is.**_

 _ **Kinda like a protective-ish, rabid street dog looking after a kicked puppy. A puppy that like guns and doesn't care about killing people.**_

 _ **Moving on, buckle yourselves in for a visit with the psychologist, and the standard DelayedInspiration episode of gender dysphoria...though technically it's not dysphoria this time, so much as idolization gone slightly too far.**_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Revy woke to the sun in her face, as she usually did, unplugged her Walkman, sat up, yawned, and stretched, her back popping. Clad only in her underwear, her sheets strewn about, Revy groggily untangled herself and found her way to her closet, where she had a set number of exceedingly identical outfits.

She slowly rifled through all of them, performing that same mundane ritual we all did in the morning, something along the lines of making sure all of our clothes from the previous day were still in there, and that's how Revy noticed something was off. Awareness returned quickly to her as she went through the shorts and tank tops and boots, counting all of them

A set was missing.

With a twitching eye and a displeased expression, Revy slowly turned towards her holsters, which dangled from the bedpost. One of her Cutlasses was missing. With her other eye twitching, the gunslinger made her way to her underwear drawer...whew, all of that was still where it was supposed to be.

Now, Revy would admit that she wasn't the brightest bulb in the house, but she had enough of a glow to draw conclusions based on given information. She whipped her gun out of its holster, and slammed open her door. In contrast to her ire, she was actually rather civil in her descent of the stairs.

Dutch met her before she got to the living room.

"Is that brat wearing—"

"Yep."

"Does he have my—"

"Uh-huh."

Revy's eye twitched. "... _why_?"

"I'm not sure. Kids are weird. I think he likes you."

"I'm touched, I really fuckin' am, but that little shit has my gun, and I want it back."

"And your clothes?"

"He can keep 'em."

"I'm glad you feel that way, because with his other clothes drenched in blood, yours are the only ones that fit him...barely."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"I want my gun back."

Revy moved past Dutch, and saw Percy sitting at the table, munching on some cereal without a care in the world...wearing Revy's outfit. On him, her boots were about five sizes too big, making his feet look like they had cancer, her shorts were loose around the legs, but there was enough belt to hold them to his waist, though they looked more like a skirt than anything, and her tank top, something that showed a generous amount of her navel and stomach, covered most of the eight year old's upper body, exposing only his belly button.

Percy had even taken his imitation of Revy a step further, pulling his hair into a sloppy ponytail, leaving his bangs to lay over his forehead.

In the hand that wasn't occupied by a spoon, was Revy's other gun.

Benny was on the couch, reading a newspaper.

"Oi, brat." Percy waved the gun jovially with his cheeks bulging like a chipmunk's, his spoon in the bowl. "I want my gun back. Give it to me." Percy swallowed, his neck bulging. He looked at the gun in his hand, looked at Revy, looked at the gun, looked at Revy...then rapidly shook his head in the negative with an impish grin on his face. Revy's eye twitched. "Fine then. Let's play hardball."

And that was how Percy and Revy reenacted a scene from _Tom and Jerry._

Meanwhile, from a rooftop adjacent the Lagoon Company, some Russians were watching the proceedings from a pair of binoculars and a sniper scope.

"Comrade, the fuck are we watching?"

"That would be Two-Hands chasing around the Kapitan's nephew, who is dressed in Two-Hand's clothes, presumably because the Kapitan's nephew has Two-Hand's other gun."

"Well, yes, I know _what_ we're watching, but...what are we _watching_?"

"Oh, in that case, I don't know. Let's call it in, and see what the Kapitan says."

And that was how Balalaika requested some headache reliever with her morning cigar.

Back in the Lagoon Company residence, Revy was on the ground, exhausted after the chase, with Percy sitting on top of her with _both_ guns in hand now, a massive grin on his face.

"Little...cock-sucking...bitch…" Revy panted. Percy stuck out his tongue and hopped off his seat, making her grunt. And then she yelped when she was pelted in the head with her Cutlasses.

Then the phone rang.

"Lagoon Company. Dutch speaking."

" _Why is my nephew crossdressing? As Two-Hands?"_

"I'm not sure. I think we're going to need a child psychologist for this one."

" _Sigh All right. Get him his own clothes, and tell him not to be picky or cheap. All expenditures will be covered by Hotel Moscow."_

"Thanks for that. However, given the interest Percy's taken in Revy, I don't think any clothes he wants are going to be appropriate for someone of his gender."

There was a pause before there was another sigh. _"Okay, then keep him busy for the day until I can figure out what's going on in his head."_

"And if he ends up wanting to be a mini Revy?"

" _We'll cross that bridge if we get to it. Good luck with my nephew, Dutch. I'm sure his ADHD won't be too much to handle."_

The line went dead, and Dutch put the phone up with a sigh. Looking up, he saw the mess Percy and Revy's antics had created, and figured he had enough to keep the boy busy for the time being.

"Percy! Revy! Time to clean up!"

"Aw, fuck you!"

 _Yeah, fuck you!_

Dutch's eye twitched as Percy cursed at him in Silent.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Roanapur wasn't big on anything besides gangs, mobs, mafias, murderers, and the scum of humanity. However, there were a few trades that made it through the daily grind, and one such trade was performed by Dr. Fredereick Shteiner, psychologist. The way these trades got by without being murdered outright was via the art of the deal, in which these small timers found allies in the major forces of Roanapur.

In this instance, Dr. Shteiner was Hotel Moscow's psychologist, frequently visited by the veterans whenever they drank too much and were in need of a listening ear.

"Frau Balalaika," greeted the German doctor. "I take it as I am in here and you are not at my office that this is not a social call."

"Afraid not, doctor. I trust you've heard that my nephew is in town?"

"I've heard something of the sort, yes."

"I trust you've also heard that he's staying with Lagoon Company."

"Of course."

"Then I trust you know of Revy."

"Frau Balalaika, I've lived here since the Fuhrer took his life like a coward. I know very well the ins and outs of Roanapur, thank you. Please, stop beating around the bush."

"Fair enough. I was informed this morning that my nephew is currently, as we weak, crossdressing in Revy's clothes."

"Oh."

"I want to know why."

"I'm going to need more information for a situation like this, frauline. The forefront conclusion at my mind is that he's simply being a child and having fun, though I suspect there is more. Please, tell me everything you can."

And so Balalaika spent roughly the next hour explaining to Dr. Shteiner the story of Percy Jackson...with certain details left out, of course.

"I see," said the doctor after a moment of silence. "Well, if that's the case, then I already have an explanation for you." At the Russian's silence, the German continued.

"Children, as you know, model themselves after their parents, or the chief parental figure in their life. You said that young Percy watched as his mother was violently murdered in front of him, yes? A traumatic experience like that leaves...a hole, if you will, in someone's psyche, especially that of a child. In the sudden absence of anything, whether it be material or otherwise, all people on this earth seek to fill that created void. In Percy's case, in the void left behind by his deceased mother, young Frauline Revy has filled that void. With Frauline Revy now taking the chief maternal spot in Percy's life, he is simply modeling himself after her as best he can. Subconsciously, of course."

Balalaika stared at the German psychologist for a long, long time after that monologue, her cigar burning idly in her mouth. Then, after slowly adjusting in her seat, she spoke.

"Why did _I_ not take that spot in Percy's psyche?"

"You introduced yourself as his aunt, filling a different spot in his psyche. On the other hand, however, you very well could have, as the first female Percy had contact with after the death of Frau Sally, but it was the entering of Frauline Revy into his life that replaced you. Come now, don't give me that look; you of all people know just how... _impactful_ Frauline Revy is."

"Quite," Balalaika said shortly. Then she sighed. "So my nephew has got it in his head to model himself to a T in regards to Rebecca, including, but not limited to, her state of dress, actions, hairstyle, and mannerisms...what do you recommend I do about this situation?"

Dr. Shteiner chortled. On his finger, a golden SS ring gleamed. "Frau Balalaika, I'm a Nazi. I recommend throwing all of you into gas chambers, burning your corpses, and then using the ashes as fertilizer to grow crops that will be used to feed Aryan mouths, but to more appropriately answer your question...do nothing, because you can _do_ nothing.

"Percy has already made up his mind that he wants to be like Frauline Revy in every way that he can, and trying to discourage this behavior will undoubtedly lead to resistance, and, considering his modeling of Frauline Revy, _violent_ resistance.

"Children are known for their impressionable minds, Frau Balalaika, and Frauline Revy has made a rather _deep_ impression in Percy's mind. If you choose to follow a route to dissuade Percy from his chosen choice of modeling, I wish you the best, and advise careful treading. _Guten tag,_ Frau Balalaika."

" _Ogon' v adu, natsistskiy ublyudok."_

Dr. Shteiner chuckled to himself as he left Hotel Moscow's main office.

Balalaika sat by herself in silence for what felt like a day. She finished one cigar, and then lit another. Then she picked up the phone.

" _Lagoon Company. Dutch speaking."_

"Dutch, take Percy clothes shopping. Let him get anything he wants, but try to keep it...decently masculine. And get him a gun cleaning kit as well. I understand he took a trophy last night, so if that's going to be a thing, I want his gun collection to remain sparkling clean."

" _Yes, ma'am."_

"Good day, Dutch."

She hung up the phone and sighed to herself. "Percy Jackson, Roanapur's resident crossdresser, possible _pedik_

and my nephew, making me the laughing stock of Roanapur...until Percy puts a bullet through their open mouths."

Balalaika grinned dangerously. "Oh, yes. I _dare_ the people of this godforsaken island to try something."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Tai-Ro Jo, more commonly called Rojo, was the owner of a small time clothing store in Colombian territory. He was also a peddler of illegal substances under the counter, with permission to do so from Abrego, and a seller of otherwise questionable items if you knew the right questions to ask.

Rojo had seen some shit, but Lagoon Company walking in with a little boy dressed as Revy definitely took the cake.

"Uh, Dutch? What—"

"Kids being kids, Rojo. Just roll with it."

Rojo still didn't look satisfied.

"You're going to get some money today, a lot of it, all courtesy of Hotel Moscow."

Rojo beamed.

Percy scampered about the store like he was in a candy shop, comparing every article of clothing he saw to Revy and what he had on. Dutch, Benny, and Revy just looked on silently with cigarettes in their mouths. Percy popped up in front of them with a pile of laundry in his arms that was bigger than he was.

"Have you tried any of that on yet?" Dutch asked patiently.

The pile shook side to side.

"Do you want to try any of that on?"

The pile nodded up and down.

"Alright...let's get started."

The first time Percy came out of the dressing room, the Lagoon Company roared 'NO!' in tandem. The second time he came out, Revy summed it up with one word, "Prude." Percy pouted and came out a third time, and there was a mixed reaction. Dutch rubbed his chin, "Not bad…" Benny shrugged, "Could be worse." Revy was more vocal.

"Okay, that fucking does it! Brat, I can see you're trying to rip me off, but you're failing harder than a virgin going at it with a professional slut, so I'm fixing this right the fuck now."

The fourth time Percy came out of the dressing room, it was in a style that Revy approved of for someone trying to look like her.

A pair of blue jean shorts, sized appropriately for a ten year old boy, with most of the leg torn off, leaving about an inch of material left below Percy's butt, a black t-shirt with the sleeves torn off and everything below his solar plexus also ripped away, a pair of boots made for terrain, and a belt that was nearly identical to Revy's own.

Revy had even been dedicated enough to do Percy's hair properly, at least as properly as she could with the length she was given.

Dutch and Benny were stunned to stone-faced silence, and Revy was grinning a shit-eating grin so wide her eyes were shut, and Percy looked expectant as he ever did, even when he was basically dressed as someone who belonged on a street corner.

"Uh...do you like it, Percy?"

 _Yes._

' _Decently masculine, Balalaika said. At least those shorts aren't skin tight and that shirt is actually meant for a boy. I better not get shot for this.'_ Even though he didn't even have hair, Dutch could feel the grey settling in. "All right. Let's check all of it out."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

And so Lagoon Company dropped several hundred dollars in shorts, boots, belts, and shirts, as well as one of Rojo's high-end gun cleaning kits. Yes, underwear was bought as well, but deep lines were drawn at underwear like what Revy wore. Panties and bras were an absolute no go, despite how much Percy wanted otherwise.

Kids were weird.

However, Percy's downtroadenness at not getting the underwear like Revy wore was quickly dashed by the excitement at having something to clean his toys with, something Revy showed him how to do when they got back home. And while she was at it, she showed him how to disassemble and reassemble his guns.

Percy took to all this new knowledge like a fish to swimming.

Meanwhile, Benny and Dutch found an opportunity to be silent observers from the kitchen area as Revy and Percy explored guns together.

"This is scary, it really is."

"Agreed, Benny-Boy."

"I mean, this is an eight year old kid, someone who should be in his second grade classroom right now learning his times tables. Instead, he's learning the inner workings of lethal weapons from a world-class murderer. On top of that, he's emulating said murderer to a fault. That's not right, Dutch."

"I know it's not, but there's nothing we can do except to accept this as our reality now."

"Our reality…" Benny's glasses caught the light. "Isn't our related dictated by false gods and pagans?"

Dutch didn't look at his friend. "Sometimes I wonder if they're really gods, or just slobs with unfair power."

Benny snorted. "And I'm from a Jewish family, but I still can't but wonder if God's any different from those guys in the sky."

"Who knows, Benny-Boy, who knows…"

Silence reigned between the two men, the only sound in the Lagoon Company residence being the antics that Percy put on Revy. Benny sighed despondently.

"I'm going out for a smoke."

Dutch watched him leave.

This happened to everyone once in awhile. Dutch had been through it, Revy had been through, and Benny had been through it before. It was that mood you got when you stopped for a moment and took in your surroundings, reflected on where you were. Everyone on this godforsaken island went through these motions, where they examined the world and the cruel nature of life and reality.

Dutch snorted to himself when he thought of life.

He had a theory regarding life, and any god of it. See, when one thinks about a god of life, they picture lush forests, adorable creatures, sunlight, flowers, peace on earth...you know, that happy stuff. Whenever Dutch though about a god of life, all he saw in his mind was the most sinister force on earth.

There are phrases for it, even, phrases that backed up Dutch's theory. Life's not fair, life's a bitch, and then the black man's personal favorite: life is cruel.

In Dutch's experience, if there is a god of life among all the other gods, then that particular god needs to fade.

Anyway, back to the topic of moods...they didn't last but a few hours. A good night's rest cured most everyone of their depression. Come morning, they were right back to their usual selves. Come morning, Benny would be his happy self again, and all would be right with the world.

Then the phone rang.

"Lagoon Company. Dutch speaking."

" _About that job I was speaking of earlier. I need you to get to it tomorrow. A new faction is trying to set up camp on a nearby island, a bunch of upstarts lead by an African-American by the name of Derrick Holt. He's a high school dropout who did a tour in Iraq as a Marine and went AWOL. He stole an Apache helicopter and is making himself to be quite a nuisance. I want Percy to get some field experience and this idiot is asking to be shot. Shouldn't be too difficult, but if you need help, call. We'll have an airstrike ready."_

"Yes, ma'am. We'll get to it first thing tomorrow."

" _Good. And how is nephew doing? Did he have a good day?"_

"He had an excellent day. He's even made some kind of a relationship with Revy."

" _Wonderful news. And what did he choose for clothes?"_

"Uh, you see—"

" _Oh, no need to answer. I guess it's as good a mix as we're going to get between his obsession with Revy and a decent shred of masculinity."_

Not knowing what else to say, Dutch went with: "Yes, ma'am."

" _Good night Dutch, and tell Percy that I love him_."

"Will do, Ms. Balalaika."

Dutch hung up the phone and sympathized with Benny.

A Russian war veteran turned mafia boss was wanting her nephew to get his feet wet by taking on a Marine with an attack chopper and God knows how many other men with God knows what weapons.

"Dutch~! I don't know if he keeps saying he wants to give me a kiss, or if he needs to take a piss! I can't read his fucking lips!"

Percy was frowning. _I said I want to be like her when I grow up._

Dutch sighed. Yep, Benny was right.

This was scary.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _ **Like I said: psychology.**_

 _ **And in case you haven't noticed yet, each chapter is coming from the name of a song that more or less fits the content of said chapter. In this case: "Obsession."**_

 _ **I think it's fitting. How 'bout you?**_

 _ **Also, short chapter, not any action, all talking, sorry about that. Next chapter will be all the over the top action**_ **Black Lagoon** _ **has on an episode basis, Percy kicking some ass with a couple of guns, and a boat vs helicopter fight that's going to be fun.**_

 _ **Before you close out that tab, don't forget to Fav, Follow, and Review!**_

 _ **P.S. Derrick Holt is my classmate who wanted to be implemented as a villain with an over the top death scene. I hope he will enjoy.**_


	4. Fortunate Son

_Fortunate Son_

 _ **Now that we have all the backstory out of the way, we can move on to the finale of the Introduction Arc, in which my classmate is killed in a firefight between a boat and a helicopter.**_

 _ **On to the destruction!**_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't own PJO or Black Lagoon

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Percy was humming to himself as he sat on the torpedo launcher, kicking his legs back and forth as they dangled over the edge of the PT boat. There was a holster for his Mark 60-7 at his right hip, and a holster for his H&K Model 23 under his left armpit. It wasn't like what Revy had, but it was close enough for Percy's liking.

The Lagoon Company was on their way to an island outside the bay, an island that served as a staging area for a growing militia of former American soldiers lead by one Derrick Holt, who managed to steal an Apache helicopter upon his desertion from the marines. Hotel Moscow was displeased with this development, as was just about everyone else that had already established themselves in Roanapur, but they weren't about to attack Americans, disavowed or otherwise.

The United States marines were something else, and only Hotel Moscow had the balls to do something about.

Though their chosen method was rather questionable in the eyes of many, sending the Lagoon Company with a child accompanying them, Balalaika wanted Percy to get some field experience. By throwing him into the fire.

Percy didn't mind; he was excited! A chance to make his aunt proud of him, and even better, a chance to get out and shoot people with Revy!

Double win!

The hatch opened with a loud bang. "Oi, brat! We're almost there," Revy said.

Percy gave her a thumbs up, hopped off the torpedo, and scampered inside the PT boat after her. Lagoon Company gathered around Dutch who was at the helm.

"Here's the plan: We'll come in from the back of the island. Revy, you and Percy will go ashore and scout Holt's base. After you're done, the both of you will come back here, and we'll make a plan. This is _strictly_ a reconnaissance mission. _Do not_ engage anyone. Please."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Revy waved off. "The fuck are you and Benny going to do?"

"We'll stay here and keep the engines hot, monitoring the situation with radar and radio chatter. That way if something goes wrong, we can be there ASAP."

"If something goes wrong, we're going to have to fight our fucking way out of there." Revy pulled the slide of her gun, chambering a round. "Should be a fucking blast."

Percy pulled his own pistols, smiling in way that was far too innocent for what was about to happen.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In the jungle of the island where Derrick was staging, Revy and Percy were approaching. When they reached a place in which they could look down from a hill and see the camp, Revy grabbed Percy by the scruff of his neck and yanked him close.

"Alright, brat, listen up 'cause I ain't about to fucking repeat myself. We're going to go down there, more or less scout the place out, and then kill everyone that breathes. Got it?"

Percy nodded against Revy's cheek.

"Good. Now follow me and don't get shot." Five minutes of walking through the terrain later: "Do you need to piss or take a shit?" Percy shook his head. "Good, 'cause you end up with shit in your pants, you're cleaning that shit up yourself." Percy gave Revy a flat look. "Don't look at me like that, brat, or I'll blow a fucking hole in your head."

Percy stuck his tongue at her.

Revy grumbled for the rest of the trek through the jungle.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Derrick's camp was about as stereotypical as a jungle-based guerilla camp could be. Green tents, barrels strewn about, a few guard posts, men wearing green uniforms, a few jeeps, all with Browning M1919's on them, and the fabled Apache helicopter sitting alone in a clearing. The rotary beast was equipped with four Hydra rocket launchers, no missiles, and an under mounted M230 chain gun.

How a high school dropout managed to steal one of those from the US Marine Corp was beyond Revy, and Percy didn't care. He just wanted to blow the chopper up.

Though, the scurrying soldiers might make things just a little difficult.

"Alright," Revy said. "Over there is their motor pool, where they're going to have oil and gas, perfect for an explosion, and over there is their magazine, also perfect for a big boom. I'll take the motor pool, you take the magazine, and if you see this Derrick guy, shoot him in the fucking head."

Percy looked at Revy. _What does he look like?_

"I don't know...black. Just kill every black guy here."

Percy cocked his head to the side, running that statement over in his head. Something about it didn't sound quite right, and he just couldn't think of why. Oh well, he had a job to do. Pulling out his guns, Percy made his way into dodge, Revy joining him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

For a paramilitary camp, this place was kind of easy to get through. Everyone had their backs to him, or were patrolling in a way that he could slip past them, or were busy doing something else that commanded all their attention. Percy was in the magazine, and only saw a candy store.

With sparkles in his eyes, he flitted from weapon to weapon like a child that couldn't decide which chocolate bar they wanted. Sadly, Percy's choosing of candy was cut short by a pair of individuals.

"Hey! Wh-!"

 _BANG BANG_

Startled, Percy's body had reacted on instinct and reflex, whirling around with guns drawn, and triggers squeezed. In the slow motion world that he existed in when it was crunch time, it was easy to put the bullets between the mens' eyes.

The corpses collapsed to the ground, and not even three seconds later did the alarm start to blare. Gunshots were loud, after all. Amidst the yelling of men, the siren, the stomping of feet, Percy heard Revy's voice, "YOU FUCKING BRAT! AND FUCK YOU! AND YOU! AND FUCK THIS THING!"

Then there was an explosion.

Revy blew up the motor pool.

And then more gunfire rang about.

Percy shrugged at the development, turned around, and saw something that made his eyes light up. He exited the magazine tent moments later with an MG42 in his hands, the belt running over his shoulder and trailing on the ground behind him. Yes, imagine an eight year old, more or less dressed in drag, running around with a belt-fed machine gun that was bigger than he was...smiling like he just got a brand new toy.

If you can successfully picture that, you should be laughing.

Anyway, when Percy was ten feet away from the magazine, he turned and opened fire, standing his ground against the recoil of the large gun. A few bullets later, and the magazine went up in flames and smoke, adding to the chaos of the situation.

Revy was pinned down and cursing, shooting in no particular direction except for where she heard bullets impact around her, when suddenly there was a new gun sound added to the mix, one louder and faster than the others. Revy's face morphed into one of bewildered shock when the little brat trying his best to look like her came scampering onto the scene with a full-auto machine gun in hand, reducing full-grown men to clouds of red mist.

Revy frowned as she looked at her guns, then she looked at the MG42 that Percy was (somehow) sporting, then back at her guns, then back at the MG42.

"I'm being outclassed by a fucking midget whose balls are smaller than my clit...oh, fuck that!" Revy vaulted the sandbags she had been behind, ready to go gung-ho, only to fire off a shot each before the guns clicked and the slides remained pulled back. "Well shit…"

Revy hopped back over the sandbags and reloaded in record time, and was back over ready to fight, only to almost bowl over a smiling child holding a gun bigger than his body, a gun that had smoke curling from the barrel. Everyone was dead.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me...you got 'em all?"

Percy looked up with a thoughtful frown, then he nodded in the affirmative.

And then the helicopter came to life, a grinning young African-American man in the cockpit.

" _Y'all niggas got change for a twenty?"_ his voice came from a speaker on the Apache.

"Great," Revy deadpanned. "He's from the Texas ghetto."

Percy didn't know what that meant, but he knew that an attack chopper was airborne and ready to fire, guns pointed at him and Revy. Revy grabbed him and yanked him along to a jeep that was still in driving condition.

"I drive, you shoot!" she roared over the rotor blades.

Percy gave a double thumbs up, and chambered the first round of many on the M1919. Revy gunned the motor, and they went shooting down the dirt road to the coast.

Derrick cackled and gave chase in the Apache.

Percy opened fire, and the AWOL marine just swerved out of the way, sliding, climbing, strafing, and descending with deft skill. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the belt halfway to its end, and was smart enough to realize that Derrick was too good a pilot to be shot down by a mounted M1919.

As soon as the firing stopped, Derrick's voice boomed out from the speakers. _"I said: do y'all. Have change. For a twenty!?"_

And then came the rockets.

Revy repeatedly screamed 'fuck' as she swerved through Hydra 70 mm barrage. Through the grace of higher beings, she made it through without any damage, but she did turn around in her seat. "Fucking shoot back at that bastard!"

Percy gave her a two-fingered salute, and turned back around. He heard a whirring sound, one that was different from the rotor blades and the jeep engine. Looking up, he saw the under mounted M230 chain gun point directly at him, and his eyes widened.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

So, we all know about _Dragon Ball Z_ beam struggles, right? Well, coming to a fanfic near you, DelayedInspiration presents:

Bullet struggles!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The M1919 went head to head M230.

In the rearview mirror, Revy could see the two streams of bullet fire, meeting more or less in the middle in a cloud of sparks and metal. She didn't get at all how that was possible, but she didn't care to find out how. She just cared about the fact that she wasn't getting shot.

Percy was seeing it in slow motion, the paths of the bullets. He was even _feeling_ the paths each bullet would take. It was strange, it was cool, and it was keeping Revy from getting hurt, so that was all that mattered.

And then the belt was spent.

And after five more shots, so was the chain.

With no other good ideas remaining, Percy tore the Browning clean off its mount, and then hurled it at the Apache. Derrick casually strafed to the side, and the machine gun went sailing harmlessly past the wing.

" _The fuck was that, kid? Trying to take me down, in a helicopter, with a machine gun? Get your white ass back in preschool!"_

Percy gave Derrick the finger.

" _Well fuck you too, nigga! Have some rockets!"_

Percy whipped out his guns, and it was the same thing that had happened so many times before. Time slowed, he could feel the trajectories of the incoming rockets, and he could predict how his own bullets were going to travel through the air...wait. That last part was new.

The swarm of Hydra 70mm met Percy's trigger finger. Bullets met rockets straight on the heads, and blew them _all_ out of the sky.

"Holy shit!" Revy screamed.

" _Goddamn!"_ Derrick cried.

Percy's magazine and cylinder were empty, and he was frowning like a child whose ice cream had just fallen off the cone. And then Percy was aware of two things: one, there was a warmth travelling down his side, soaking his shorts and his underwear, and two, despite the warmth of Roanapur, Thailand, he felt cold.

Revy saw why, too: there was a massive hole in the little brat's side. It was bleeding profusely. One of the chain gun rounds had gotten him. Percy swayed, before falling over the railing and into the passenger's seat.

"Oh, shit," Revy muttered. If Percy died here, Hotel Moscow would wipe her ass off the face of the planet, with Dutch and Benny following soon after, and this American behind her wouldn't even find peace in the afterlife.

Luckily, the beach was right there, and Dutch was waiting, the boat rumbling. There was the telltale sound of a rocket being fired, a loud cacophony of noise shattered Revy's eardrums, and she was weightless. Everything was weightless. Then her bones jostled and her muscles dislodged themselves as she slammed into cold hard metal.

"Fuck~..."

"Revy! Dutch says to get your ass in gear, and get on the gun! And where's Percy!?"

Revy's previous pain was washed away in a tidal wave of adrenaline. Where _was_ Percy!?

A few rockets came too close for comfort, and Dutch was forced to speed away from the island, pushing the PT boat as fast as all three outboards would allow.

"Tell Dutch we've got a fucking problem!"

Benny nodded and disappeared, and Revy made haste for the sniper...sniper not necessarily being the right word. Two-Hands popped out of the hatch toting a Gepard Anti Materiel Rifle.

" _Oh, shit! She gotta piece! She gotta piece!"_

"Shut the fuck up and let me blow you out of the fucking sky already!"

And then Revy began to basically blind fire.

Meanwhile, inside the PT boat driver's seat…

"Hey, Dutch?"

"Little busy here, Benny."

"Yeah, we lost Percy."

If the boat had brakes, Dutch would've slammed them.

However, contrary to Benny's expectations of rage and obscenities, Dutch remained calm.

' _Alright kid. Either your dad is who I think it is and you'll be just fine, or we've got a serious problem on our hands.'_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It tickled.

The water, it tickled. It was also warm, and inviting. It felt good, it felt like he was wrapped in a blanket and being held by his mom. He felt loved here, in the water...but he could also feel the danger further out. The rockets hitting the water, the boat shooting away as fast as it could. Revy, shooting. Benny, sweating. Dutch, driving.

His side, healing.

Percy's eyes opened, and he saw, with perfect clarity against the haze of saltwater, that he wasn't even three feet deep. And he felt _it_. The sensation. The ability. The power.

The Son of Poseidon went rocketing through the water like a bullet.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Shit, one round left," Revy muttered.

" _Shit, one rocket left,"_ Derrick muttered aloud.

And then Percy erupted out of the water like a dolphin from hell. He landed on the PT boat and took the Rifle from Revy, who was far too shocked to protest, and shouldered the massive weapon, while standing

Derrick fired his remaining rocket, and Percy fired the remaining bullet. The two projectiles met not even five feet away from the Apache cockpit, and an explosion occurred the likes of which caught the remaining fuel on fire, and the entire helicopter exploded in a cloud of fire and shrapnel.

Percy watched with a childish expression of awe and wonder, like he just saw a unicorn.

"Brat," Revy said, "you are something else."

Percy beamed happily.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The setting sun cast a golden glow over the port as Lagoon Company came in to dock. Balalaika aunt and the rest of Hotel Moscow was there to welcome them quartet. Percy bounded out of the PT boat, MG42 slung over his shoulder, and he scampered to his aunt.

"I see you found a new toy."

 _Yep!_

The rest of Lagoon Company joined.

"Dutch, seeing as all of you are alive, your ship is undamaged, and I wasn't called for help, I trust the mission went well?"

"Well as can be expected given a gung-ho woman and an energetic kid."

"Good. And how was Percy?"

"An exemplary performance, Ms. Balalaika."

"Very good." Balalaika sighed. "I guess I have no choice then but to start your training, Percy."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Cue a four year time skip, filled to the brim with a montage, of hand to hand lessons with huge, half-naked Russian men, firearm lessons with every gun that human hands could legally and illegally get their hands on, foreign language studies involving Russian, Chinese, Italian, and Spanish (no sign language because that was a hassle no one wanted to be a part of), constant battles on keeping Percy away from a tattoo parlor, cigarettes, and any forms of alcohol (all met with limited success), introductions to other major characters of the Roanapur stage, performing more and more jobs and missions of varying natures for a variety of employers, destroying Yellowflag Bar numerous times, learning business tactics and strategies from Roanapur's best, and the changing of Percy Jackson.

Clothes didn't change, still the same boots, shorts, shirts, and belts, but he neglected to cut his hair for four years straight, giving it a length not seen since the rock legends of the 80's, but he still kept it styled like Revy's. His body, though the years of training, remained lithe and slim, and combined with his choice of clothing, created a range of mobility and flexibility that was crucial for his style of acrobatics, reflexes, and guns.

Speaking of guns, Percy had his own set of iconic firearms, a birthday present from his aunt.

A pair of Tokarev TT-30 pistols, with pure white pearl grip panels, polished bodies of the sleekest black, and inlaid in the middle of the panels was a gold pin. If you looked close enough, you be able to see that the pin was a Kalashnikov crossed over a Dragunov set on top of a star. The personal symbol of Hotel Moscow.

But enough of the exposition.

It took only three chapters, but we made it to canon, and we're stopping here with a cliffhanger.

A cliffhanger involving a Japanese businessman having a really rough day…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _ **Derrick was quite pleased with how he died, and he's already asking to have survived. I reserve the right to make that happen. As for his dialogue, he specifically requested that it be to his character, in that his catch phrase was used plenty of times, and his speech was appropriate.**_

 _ **Like Revy said: Texas ghetto.**_

 _ **Time skip and montage...yeah, I didn't feel like wasting my time with several chapters of backstory. You'll have to settle with snippets and indirect comments of past events. It'll be fun, kinda like in**_ **Episode III** _ **when Anakin's talking about the stuff he and Obi-Wan did, during the scene after they drop off the Chancellor. Call me lazy, but I'll have you know I've been called worse.**_

 _ **Percy's guns...I wanted to be original. Revy has Berettas, Dutch has a revolver, Chang has a different set of Berettas, Dante has M1911s, Agent 47 has AMT Hardballers, and Percy has a Russian aunt. Hence, Russian pistols. I'll also have you know that I'm not a Commie, but a person who likes to mix things up.**_

 _ **Cliffhanger...I'm just evil. And yay! Canon! In record time!**_

 _ **Don't know about PJO's canon, but I don't think it'll be soon...I haven't thought that far ahead yet.**_

 _ **Fav, Follow, and Review!**_


	5. Welcome to the Jungle

_Welcome to the Jungle_

 _ **Well, it's been long enough, but here it is! I hope everyone had a terrific New Year, and here's to 2018!**_

 _ **May it be better than 2017.**_

 _ **Anyway, here's the introduction of Rock, and his extreme confusion over his situation…and who he's with.**_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't own PJO or Black Lagoon

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rokuro Okajima was _not_ having a good day. Waking up at three in the morning was the start of his bad day, for one, having to be at the port to get on this ship was two, getting sea sick and throwing up his food— _twice_ —and being attack by pirates was three. Being kidnapped by said pirates was four, and the little…child…watching his made it an even five.

Scared out of his wits as he was, Rokuro was puzzled by his guard. They wore an outfit similar to the woman, only like a male version of it. The shorts were cut obscenely short, but there was obvious room in the crotch to account for male genitalia. The shirt was also boyish, despite the removed material to make it a sleeveless crop top. Then there was the hair. Long, black, very well maintained—Rokuro had actually met real women who had _worse_ hair—and styled just like the woman's, Revy's, if Rokuro had heard correctly. Bangs across the forehead, two framing the face, the rest pulled into a ponytail.

The child had the same style of gun belt across their front as Revy did, the holsters occupied by a pair of guns, just like Revy's were, though these guns were different from the pirate's. The child's skin, tanned from God knows how long from the sun, was mostly unblemished. Rokuro thought he saw a circular scar here and there, like gunshot wounds, but the lighting made it difficult.

Amidst all these similarities though, there was a glaring difference: the eyes.

Not only were they the most vibrant shade of green Rokuro had ever seen, they were also devoid of…everything Revy had in her eyes. That crazed fire, the deranged gleam, that violent twinkle, the insane sparkle…this child had none of those. They just sat on the table, kicking their legs back and forth, watching him with curious, innocent eyes. Rokuro was almost inclined to believe that the child was another prisoner, like him, but the state of dress, the guns, and the obvious modeling of Revy spoke volumes otherwise.

"H-Hey," the Japanese man hazarded. The child cocked their head like a puppy. "Do you know where…do you know what's going on here?"

The head bobbed once.

"Then can you tell me? Please?"

The child didn't speak, but their lips moved like they were speaking. Rokuro watched this all happen with a confused expression. Lip speaking, he recognized well enough, but he didn't catch a lick of what those lips were supposed to be saying.

"O-Okay, um…I'm Rokuro Okajima. What's your name?" Rokuro caught it this time. "Percy? That's a nice name." It was also one that could be used gender indiscriminately. The business man didn't know if that was Percy with a Y, or Percy with an I. Still, it could go both genders either way, and so did not help Rokuro in determining if he was in the company of a boy or girl.

So he asked directly, and the mouthed answer did not ease his tension.

"So you're a boy? But you look like…her."

Percy flashed a grin. _Yep._

"Why?"

 _I want to._

"…why?"

Percy shrugged.

It was clear to Rokuro that not only was he dealing with a borderline crossdressing boy with the body of a child, he was dealing with a crossdressing boy with the mind of a child, in that that he simply did things based on whatever whim that came upon him, therefore his actions could not be explained with any kind of logic.

It was a good thing the door was slammed open but a booted foot, because Rokuro had no idea where to move with the conversation.

"Alright, dumbass, get up here. Dutch wants to talk to ya. And come on, brat. I don't want you with this guy any longer than you have to be."

Revy pinned Rokuro with a displeased look, like she thought he was going to do something to Percy, like rape him or talk to him about making a career in an office.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What exactly did you plan on doing with this guy now that you've brought him along?" Rokuro wanted to know that, too.

"Look, we're only getting paid twenty grand for this," Revy held up two fingers, " _twenty grand!_ I figured we could make a little extra by selling this guy for a ransom!"

That sounded nice. He could be home in time for dinner.

The blonde in the other room leaned back in his chair. "I think you're being too simple minded."

Revy rounded on him. "Do you wanna _die_ , Benny!?"

"Not really." The blonde went back to his computer.

It was clear to Rokuro that Benny was not the most assertive of the group.

"And who's going to call them, hm? Do you know the Japanese phone number? Do you even know how to negotiate a ransom?"

To Rokuro, it did not look like Revy had that kind of smarts. She proved it too.

The pirate's face contorted and she yelled in frustration, leaping to her feat with her gun in hand. She started shooting as she started screaming. "FINE THEN! WE'LL JUST HIS ASS AND THROW HIM OVERBOARD!"

"Revy!" Dutch roared. "Stop! You'll damage the ship!"

Rokuro was against the door, cowering, bullet holes around him. "I'm alive…I don't know how, but I can't believe I'm alive."

Percy leaned in, a skeptical look on his face with a hand on his chin. _Yeah, I can't believe it either._

Dutch was holding Revy tightly, and painfully.

She gurgled. "Okay, Dutch—I got it. Dutch!"

"Okay, Revy. I'm going to let you go now." The large man did indeed let her go, and then he kneeled next to the terrified Rokuro. "Let's go up top for a smoke."

Percy flitted over to Revy, who had sat down on the bench, and flopped over into her lap.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

More time had passed than what Rokuro had previously thought. It was already sunset, and he was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, in that he was sharing a smoke with Dutch, and he felt extremely empathetic to the man.

And it had nothing to do with the calm atmosphere, the warm sea breeze, or the fact they were sharing a smoke.

"What's Percy's story?"

Dutch didn't look at Rokuro. "Percy's story? Why do you want to know that?"

"I don't know…" Rokuro said dazedly. His eyes were far away. "He just seems…different from all of you."

"Yeah, you're not wrong about that." Dutch blew out a cloud of smoke. "Percy's story…he was eight when he was orphaned. His drunken stepfather killed his mom in front of him, and then he killed his stepfather with his stepfather's own gun. After that, he spent two days on the streets of Manhattan as he made his way to Montauk beach. He killed two police officers and thirteen gang members. As we speak, he's actually a wanted criminal on American soil."

Rokuro should have been flabbergasted and horrified, but maybe it was the cigarette, maybe something in it, but he just felt so laid back and at peace that the story he just heard didn't have an effect on him, besides prompt another question.

"How did he end up here?"

"Where we live…where we're going…it's dominated by all kinds of crime syndicates. Percy's aunt just so happens to be the leader of the most powerful syndicate, a branch of the Russian mafia called Hotel Moscow."

"…Hotel Moscow…"

"After Percy's aunt heard about his situation, she hauled ass to America and picked him up. She brought him here, and then she offered him something of a home with us, and with us he's stayed for the past four years. Lots of good memories."

"Can he talk?"

"He can. It just sounds real bad because he doesn't do it often."

"Why not?"

"Psychological damage. It's the same reason he dresses like Revy."

"…huh?"

Dutch took another drag. "He was eight when he watched his mom get killed in front of him, and he almost got killed himself that same night, then he killed fifteen people in the course of two days. Killing people changes a man…watching people get killed in front of you is something entirely different. All that while he was just a little kid. Honestly, I think we're all very lucky that Percy is only damaged in the way he is. He could be much worse right now."

Dutch stood, threw his cigarette overboard, and patted Rokuro's shoulder.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In the early hours of the night did the PT boat dock, and everyone hopped off.

"Hey, wait! Aren't I prisoner? Where are you going?"

"To get a drink," Dutch threw over his shoulder.

"What about me!?" Rokuro cried.

"Well, Rock, you can either stay here by yourself until we get back, go wander the streets and hope you don't get lost, kidnapped, killed, or sold into prostitution or slavery, or you can come with us," Benny said with his hands in his pockets.

Rokuro paled at his sudden options, but he caught something. "Rock?"

Benny jutted his chin out at something behind Okajima, and he turned around to see Percy there with his hands behind his head.

"Percy gave you a nickname. That means he likes you."

Percy hopped down from the foot and landed on the dock, then he scampered to Revy's side, got slapped upside the head, and retaliated by slapping Revy's ass. He got a gun to the face.

Dutch facepalmed. "Stop it you two."

"He started it!"

"Revy."

"What!?"

"No he didn't."

"Yeah, well…he slapped my ass!"

"You slapped his head."

"And!?"

Dutch sighed. "Just put your gun away before the sniper shoots you."

Revy froze, her eyes darting around for a little bit. "Alright, fine," she said subduedly. She put her gun away.

Percy grinned the entire time.

Rock watched the whole exchange with an awed expression. He recalled Percy's story as told to him by Dutch, and it wasn't hard to guess what Revy's childhood had been like, so to watch them act so…normal, childish, like a family, was…strange. Like watching savages behave like nobles.

Then there was what Benny had said: Percy likes you.

Rock wasn't sure what to make of a gun-toting preteen that hung around criminal pirates 'liking' him, but there was something reassuring about having what appeared to be something of a friend in the boy. If what Dutch had said is true, then Percy was directly connected with the most powerful person on this island, and if that case, then prime protection was with him, and his…family(?).

Rock joined Lagoon Company on their way to get some drinks.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Shut your fucking mouth!"

"I'm gonna throw your ass outta here!"

"Hey, baby. How 'bout we go somewhere else and get to know each other a little better~."

Revy spat out her drink and had her gun drawn. "Get your fucking hands away from him before I bust a cap balls deep in your asshole!"

The hooker attempting to seduce the twelve-year-old Percy scurried away while clenching her ass cheeks together.

Rock noticed three constants to every table: guns, drinks, and money.

"Is this the bar at the end of the world you see in Western movies?"

"Good analogy," Dutch said. "This place was founded by the Southern Vietnamese soldiers who survived the war. They started taking in other soldiers too, and before we knew it, this place had gone straight to hell."

Rock looked at Dutch, rapt with attention.

"Hookers, junkies, mercenaries, hitmen, irredeemable criminals, every one of them."

Rock exhaled, and the veteran got up and walked away.

"Don't bother trying to figure him out," Benny said. "I've been here for six years, and still can't read him."

"How _did_ you end up here?"

The blonde took a sip. "Was at a college in Florida, managed to piss off the FBI and the mafia with my computer—"

"And his ass would've been grass unless yours truly stepped in and saved him," Revy grinned, leaning on Benny with a gun out. Then her face contorted. "PUT THAT DOWN RIGHT NOW!"

Rock whipped around to see Percy flinch and drop a shot glass full of rum. The businessman couldn't help but raise a brow.

"So, he lives with you, carries guns, has presumably killed people and been shot at, most likely curses like all of you too…but you don't let him drink?"

Percy brandished his arms at Rock, a clear gesture of _'That's what I'm saying!'_

"No, we don't let him drink, because every time he does, he gets fucking crazy, and it takes an act of God to calm him back down…and his aunt doesn't want him drinking anyway. Or smoking. Or getting tattoos."

"Oh."

Revy grinned, looping her arm around Percy's neck. "And it's fun watching him get pissy when we catch him trying and rip his ass for it."

Percy snapped at her, almost biting off her nose.

Revy snickered. The she saw what Rock was drinking.

"Beer? Beer's no better than piss; it'll never get you drunk. A real man drinks rum." She sat down, poured a glass, and slid it over to Rock, knocking away the beer. Then she leaned back in her chair with a smirk and her chin resting on her fist. "But~, if you don't even have the balls to keep up with a woman, then I won't try and force ya," she cracked open an eye, "though I might just put a pretty dress on you and some ribbons and take you out for a night of dancing."

Percy tapped Revy's shoulder, and she turned to look at him. He was giving her a strange look.

 _You're gonna do_ _what_ _?_

The answer was stopped when Rock stood, loosening his tie. "I try to avoid confrontation, and I abhor drinking like some teenager, but I'll make an exception." He grabbed the glass and downed _all_ of it. His cheeks reddened and he smirked at Revy. "I was forced to drink at parties, and I was forced to drink at company social gatherings," his smirk turned to a grin, "never underestimate a Japanese businessman!"

Now Revy felt threatened. "Hey, bartender!" She and Rock pressed faces, and yelled in tandem: "Bring us all the Bacardi you got!"

Benny swirled the ice in his glass. "And I though you tried to avoid confrontation."

Meanwhile, Percy had managed to find a couple of flags that had GO REVY on one, and GO ROCK on the other. He was waving them around like someone at a college football game.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What are we in for?" Dutch asked.

" _Oh, the usual,"_ Balalaika said. _"Asahi Industries' response to our terms sounded a little off, so I set out some bait and a little Chinese rat went right for it."_

The next thing Dutch heard were some barked commands from the Russian, and then some broken, pained speech. The only words he was able to make out were 'mercenaries to Roanapur.'

"Do we get any help?"

" _Would Percy appreciate any help?"_

"No, but I'm sure he would appreciate his aunt caring about him enough to send a couple of missiles."

" _Dutch~, you and I both know that Percy is a prideful and independent creature. He doesn't like outside help from anyone, even me. Try not die, hm?"_

The last thing Dutch heard were gunshots before the line went dead.

He sighed. "It's going to be one of those nights…"

Then the grenades went off.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Revy, are these guys friends of yours!?"

"Can't say I know them." She took a sip of some rum.

"Well you better do something, because if they're here for you, I'm going to weld your asshole shut!"

 _GLUG…GLUG…GLUG_

Revy and Bao froze, slowly turning their heads to the sound of the liquid in the bottle.

 _GLUG…GLUG_

Benny and Rock's gazes followed, and where Benny paled, Rock's jaw fell slack.

 _GLUG_

Dutch exhaled slowly. "Well…this is about to happen."

Where he sat, Percy swayed from side to side, eyes closed, cheeks just a little red. Then he came to a stop, his entire body locking up, rum bottle in hand.

His eyes suddenly snapped wide open, glowing with the great intensity of a thousand suns.

Rock watched with something akin to deeply impressed horror as a preteen boy leapt over the bar, guns drawn, and went to town on a bunch of hapless mercenaries. Percy moved with such agility in his alcohol-induced moment that his eyes left streaks of light behind him.

Bullets flew at Percy with wild abandon, not that any came close to hitting him. He returned fire as he moved, his Tokarevs spitting bullets like party favors. Mercenaries went down like weeds before a lawnmower with holes sprouting in their heads.

Things got weird when Percy was suddenly running on the ceiling, eyes still glowing, guns still shooting.

Rock looked on with a jaw that far too unhinged to belong to a human, and Bao and Lagoon Company looked exasperated. Before all of them, all they saw was a blur of motion, and yellow streaks of light blazing an indistinct pattern across the floor of the bar. In fact, Percy was generating so much tailwind in so many different directions, that tables, corpses, chairs, and other debris was suspended in the air.

"This…this is unreal," Rock stuttered.

"This is why we don't let him drink," Revy said. "He turns into the fucking Roadrunner on steroids and Ecstasy."

Amidst the sounds of everything, there was a groaning.

"Shit, everyone out!" Dutch roared.

No one had to be told twice. Outside, in the back, where the car was, Bao watched with tears in his eyes as Yellowflag collapsed.

"My bar, my bar~…" he rounded on Lagoon Company. "You had better be able to pay for this!"

"Oh, calm your tits," Revy waved off. "You know Hotel Moscow will build it again for you."

Bao's fires of anger dimmed.

Rock was hysterical. "ARE YOU PEOPLE INSANE!? A KID JUST DIED IN THERE! CRUSHED TO DEATH!" He heard a giggle, and whirled around. Percy was simply standing there, holding a massive pile of cash in his arms. His ponytail had come undone, leaving his black hair to fall freely across his shoulder blades. "Oh, you're alive…HOW ARE YOU ALIVE!?"

"He's fast, Rock," Benny said. "Now let's all get in before the mercenaries on the other side over there get curious and peak around the corner."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What happened to Percy?"

The boy was passed out on the bench, curled in a ball, snuggling with a rocket launcher…a _loaded_ rocket launcher. Rock's mouth was set in a wide squiggle and his eyes were wide. Revy waved him off.

"This happens every time he drinks. He gets super hyper, then he crashes, and not even a fucking nuke can wake him up. Oi, Benny! How much cash did he grab!?"

"Uh, I'm at five thousand, and still got a long way to go."

"Nice take," Revy muttered. "Dutch?"

"Hm?"

"What's the plan?"

"Get as far away from Roanapur as possible, and deal with any mercenaries that come after us."

"Fuckin' A."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Well, after a fun little story involving an attack helicopter, a sunken boat, and a couple of torpedo launchers, Percy woke to the strangest thing.

Rock blazing a middle finger with an evil grin on his face.

" _Yeah! You got FUCKED!"_

And then there was the most jarring impact that ended with everything being tossed around inside the boat, and a rocket flying through the windshield. There was the explosion of something big hitting solid ground.

Percy had a panicked look on his face due to the fact that he just fired a rocket through the windshield. When he heard Dutch groan, he flinched and threw the RPG to the side, and nailed Rock in the head. The businessman collapsed, and ended up sprawled out all over everything.

"Well, my head's still attached…" Dutch adjusted his specs, "…and my sun glasses aren't broken, so amen. Hallelujah and peanut butter.

"Fucking hell," Revy said. In the position she was in, anyone who wanted to look would've gotten a generous view of her ass. "We made it this time, but I'm _never_ doing this again."

"Benny, you okay?" Dutch called.

The Jew exhaled. "Yeah, somehow." He took a look around, "But all my instruments are fucked."

"And Rock?"

Revy massaged her head as she stood next to the veteran. "Passed out over there. He was yelling like a maniac—hold up!"

Dutch and Benny saw it too: the rocket launcher Percy had been snuggling with, by Rock's head, devoid of a rocket.

All three rounded on the boy, who was doing a good job of playing possum. A breeze through the cabin alerted everyone that was awake that something wasn't quite right. Then they saw the broken window. Dutch, Revy, and Benny rounded on the demigod.

" _PERCY!"_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was a peaceful atmosphere in Roanapur when Lagoon Company docked at the meeting place. Dutch handed Balalaika the disc, and moved back to stand with his fellows. Percy had his hands at his side, and he was sporting three separate knots on his head. Rock had a knot on his head too.

Percy looked like he was trying to crush his aunt in a bear hug, which he was. Part of his training: be professional when the time calls for it. Right now, in the middle of conducting business, it was time to be professional.

Rock was staring at the Russian woman as she spoke with his _former_ boss. _'This is Percy's aunt, the head of the most powerful underworld branch in Roanapur. I wonder how she got those scars…'_

"…come along, Mr. Okajima."

The voice of Kageyama broke Rock from his thoughts, and the man felt a cold anger course through him. The phone call hours previous, this man telling him he was _dead_ , how his family would be given a lie, how _he_ had been lied to about the contents on that disc— _nuclear_ contents—all in the event that something might happen, and he could be killed and forgotten with full legality.

Rock's anger smoldered in him as he recalled how his life had been so casually thrown away, and then at how casually it was being called back in. And he was also aware of the look Percy was giving him, the childish hope that he wouldn't go. Rock realized that he was at a crossroads in his life, and there was a decision to be made.

It was an easy decision.

Rock stepped up the car, and undid his tie.

"Hey, boss, don't you remember?"

Kageyama gave him a sideways glance.

"Well, you should. I'm already dead, you said it, remember? And by the way…" the man's eyes narrowed and hardened.

"The name is _Rock_ ,now."

"That so?" Kageyama said, bored and unfazed. "Very well, do as you wish. Let's go, Fujiwara."

"Y-Yes, sir."

And just like that, Rokuro Okajima became nothing more than a memory to the ambitious representative of Asahi Industries.

A car pulled up next to Rock. Inside was Balalaika. "Well, Rock, I owe you an apology, making you talk to those idiots. I also want to say: good luck. My nephew can be quite the handful, but he really is a sweetheart. Take good care of him for me, okay?" Those warm grey eyes sparkled with warmth, and yet there was an underlying gleam in them.

Rock nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Balalaika smiled and drove away.

Rock turned around, and he saw the Lagoon Company standing against the seawall. Dutch was in the middle, Benny to his left, and Revy was sitting on top to Dutch's right. In front of her, also sitting on the wall, was Percy, Revy's arms draped around his shoulders.

"Tell me Rock…what will you do now?" Dutch asked.

Rock shrugged. "Guess I'm not a hostage anymore, and I've got nowhere to go…"

A warm breeze glided past.

Percy squeezed Revy's arms, looking up at her with a toothy grin. She looked away with something of a wistful look. In the sunset, Rock thought she looked beautiful.

"Hey, there's this _crew_ I've heard about that's looking for a good sailor. Think _you_ would be interested in something like that?"

Rock lit a cigarette.

"They're a delivery company—"

"—who sometimes break the rules to put food on the table. Isn't that right?"

A small smirk crossed Revy's face.

Percy leapt down and nearly bulldozed Rock as the man approached.

Oh yes, this was an easy decision, indeed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

" _Ah, testing! Testing_!" Rock's voice was distorted and warbled due to the amplifier. " _Good morning to everyone aboard the_ St. Joan _._ _I_ —"

"Why aren't you wearing the Hawai'ian shirt I bought for you at the market?" Revy interrupted with a grumble.

"Because we happen to be at work." Rock answered. He cleared his throat and ignored Percy's giggle. " _Um, right_. _I'm sorry to ask this, but I need the captain of the_ St. Joan _to stop your ship right away."_

His answer was a bullhorn.

Rock panicked a little when he saw Revy heft the rocket launcher.

" _Uh, I really think that complying with my request is going to be best course of action before things get really messy!"_

Meanwhile, inside the PT boat, Dutch was smoking and lounging. "Well, Benny-Boy?"

"We finally got communications going?"

"What's they say?"

"Move aside or we'll run you over."

"Oh. That's cute. Revy, Percy, play time is over."

The gunslinging woman cackled. "Fucking A!" Then she realized she was out of rockets, on account of a certain above written instance. She turned a twitching eye to the boy, who just rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

Revy took the megaphone for herself. " _Alright, dipshits! Since my kid fucked up and used our only rocket, we're forced to take drastic measures! Don't say Rock didn't fuckin' warn your sorry asses!"_ She gave the megaphone back to Rock. "Percy, do the thing."

The son of Poseidon grinned, walked two steps past Rock, and raised his hands.

And suddenly, the Japanese businessman felt that he may have made his easy decision just a little too hastily.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _ **Yes, drunk Percy will become a thing. Yes, he was passed out for the whole of episode 2 so that he couldn't simply take the chopper out with the sea or the Anti Materiel Rifle. Yes, Revy did just refer to Percy as 'her kid.'**_

 _ **Now, to talk business.**_

 _ **Things are changing in my life. I'll be going to college come Fall, and I don't know what that'll do to my writing. After college, I definitely don't know what that'll do to my writing. The point that's trying to be made here is that…time may just be running out.**_

 _ **As such, it's becoming crunch time for my fics, and here's the latest:**_

 **Xenomorphic** _ **is coming to a close. I've thought hard about PJO canon and**_ **Xeno** _ **canon, and they don't mix. From the**_ **Chaos War Teaser** _ **, you might have picked up on Arcadia, the son of Asteria and Cain. Further, all the questions about how Asteria will be able to reproduce need to be answered, and my answer does not allow for PJO canon to happen. As such,**_ **Xenomorphic** _ **will be binged to completion. I predict ten chapters, maybe less, maybe more.**_

 **Son of Jashin** _ **is on a standby, as far as its far future reaches. Technically, it's also coming to a close, as the last arc for it to canonically follow is the**_ **Last Olympian** _ **, and the Giant War wouldn't exactly be much fun with OP Shinto demigods running the show, and one-shotting everything they came across. So, where**_ **SoJ** _ **could also be finished in ten-ish chapters, I'm leaving that alone for now.**_

 **Green-Eyed Ghoul** _ **is also on standby. I've received complaints that it's becoming stale and stagnant on account of every recent chapter basically boiling down to Eto dominating Persia. The next chapter for that will be the arrival at New Rome, and the start of that arc, which will end with the Ghouls receiving word of the CCG's planned assault on the 20**_ _ **th**_ _ **ward, the Owl Suppression Operation, which will actually be the Kraken Suppression Operation. The problem is that I've given no thought to the New Rome arc. So**_ **Ghoul** _ **is on standby.**_

 **Assassin's Creed Transcendence** _ **…has become a massive clusterfuck due to my overreaching ambition of stupid OP-ness, and desire to tie in a classic anime, all done in a very unbefitting way in regards to the subject material of**_ **AC:T** _ **. I have the next chapter for that planned out, and I know where I want to go from there, all the way out to the Fourth Life arc…actually, I know exactly what I want to do with that whole story, the problem is how much time that's going to consume.**_

 _ **So here's the plan: finish**_ **Xenomorphic** _ **, finish**_ **SoJ** _ **, dabble in**_ **Ghoul** _ **, and then binge**_ **AC:T,** _ **while putting**_ **Sea Devil** _ **on the shelf, because honestly? I'm not feeling this story. Don't ask why, but the motivation just isn't there.**_

 _ **Another reason for all this haste is that I've set a goal for myself for this year: I want to publish a novel. If you've read the end of**_ **Backup Plan** _ **, you more or less know what the novel will be about. But to finish that and publish that, I'll need time, which, as I've said, I'm running out of.**_

 _ **I want to get my fics where I want them, and then I want to start writing my novel.**_

 _ **This plan is subject to change at my whim.**_

 _ **Fav, Follow, and Review!**_


	6. Just Another Manic Monday

_Just Another Manic Monday_

 **Sea Devil** _ **won the unofficial vote, but I also think it's high-time it sees a little bit of love since it is August, and it was last updated in March, though that is when I started my novel, which is halfway done, and should be done by now, but I've spent all my time on fanfiction.**_

 _ **I may have a problem.**_

 _ **Anyway, this chapter will be modelling Episode Three of**_ **Black Lagoon** _ **, so go hit up YouTube or some streaming site to refresh your memory if need be.**_

 _ **Now, into the mind of Rock for exposition.**_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't own Percy Jackson or Black Lagoon

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Despite the ungodly amount of illegal activities that happen upon the island of Roanapur, there was hardly ever a day where the city didn't look deceptively calm and beautiful.

The breeze was always warm, carrying with it the good scent of the sea. The water was like crystal, nice, clean, and more unpolluted than what one would originally think (it probably had something to do with the strict laws Hotel Moscow enforced in regards to the water…which in turn probably had something to do with Hotel Moscow's leader's nephew). The sky was always clear, a brilliant sapphire dotted with sparse clouds here and there, and the city itself, from a distance, looked clean and well-maintained.

Of course, when you get on the streets, everything became so different.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rock stood on the balcony of the Lagoon Company's residence, reflecting the past two months.

 _After the first job I went on with Lagoon Company, and Percy made the water rise and cripple the_ St. Joan _, I held my questions in until we got back home. Dutch told me that Percy was the son of the Greek sea god, Poseidon. He said it with such seriousness, and he was backed up by everyone, that I couldn't refute him, or tell if he was joking. I wasn't convinced, but as time wore on, well…_

Bits and pieces of memories flashed across Rock's mind, seeing Percy do more strange stuff with water, like splashing people with it, capsizing ships and boats, and go swimming for minutes on end without surfacing. There was also combat; in the few shootouts Rock was reluctantly dragged into, he witnessed how much of a beast Percy was with those guns, able to mow down groups of men with pinpoint accuracy, avoid bullets like Batman, and move with a fluidity, a grace, and a speed too great for mortal men.

 _I'm still not convinced Percy is the son of Poseidon, and I refuse to think of what that would mean for all religious groups around the world for a Greek demigod to be walking around._

As "walking around" entered his train of thought, Rock reflected on the city he now lived in

 _Everyone here knows each other. Every haggler on the street calls out to everyone they see by name, every vendor of every shop or restaurant I've been in has greeted all of Lagoon Company by their names, even Percy, and Dutch, Benny, and Revy all know everyone they meet by name. Despite how big and diverse Roanapur is, there's still a sense of comradery and fraternity here…despite how fragile it is, and how quick to change it may be._

As Rock thought of fragility and change, he recalled all the fights he had seen breaking out at the most random of times, at the most random of places, for the most random of reasons. It made his head spin at how fast two men who were partners in crime for several years could stab their partner in the back at the drop of a hat for a few dollars more.

And speaking of money, Rock thought of all the crime syndicates he had met.

 _Balalaika, Percy's aunt, leader of Hotel Moscow, the Russian mafia consisting of ex-spetsnaz, Russian special forces; Mr. Chang, ex-police officer and leader of the Hong Kong Triad. Verrocchio, leader of the Italian mafia, and Abrego, leader of the Manisalera cartel. From my years in the office, I can tell that Balalaika and Chang are the top dogs here, with Balalaika being at the very top, and Chang is content with his status. Verrocchio is the ambitious one looking to rise, and Abrego is the small fry who knows he's the small fry, but he knows he's a powerful small fry so he just goes about his business and tries not to piss anyone off. It's a fragile power balance between the four of them, because they all know that a dropping hat could turn into all out war across the island, and even though it's understood that Hotel Moscow would come out on top with all their military training, they would be barely able to stand with so many of their ranks gone._

It disturbed Rock how critical he had become of the underworld since his time here started. And of course, thinking of how it all started, got him thinking of Revy and Percy, the woman who had kidnapped him, and the boy that had become attached to him.

 _Those two have the single most weird relationship I've ever seen. Revy always refers to Percy as 'brat,' or as 'her kid,' never by his name except for when she's serious, and she never calls him her son. Still, she's not exactly his mother, either, in any sense. She's somewhere between babysitter, big sister, and mother, being very casual with him and comfortable around him, teasing him and picking on him, and being very protective of him._

Rock recalled numerous occasions when Revy…switched. Typically, she was a brash, loud, immature young woman with a foul mouth, but when it came to Percy's wellbeing, she got serious. Her eyes would darken, her face would lose all traces of mirth, her mouth would set into a line, and her body language, her posture, the very air around her, would all become dangerous, like the raised hackles and bared teeth of the wolf.

Percy would also change when Revy became like that. He would look at the ground, close up from everyone, and cling to her, pressing himself tight against her side, holding her arm. Usually, such a tender display would be met with a crack upside his head and vulgar rebuttal, but whenever they got like that, Revy made sure he didn't leave her side.

 _It was eye-opening, and it still is. Even though they banter and mess with each other, there's a deep bond between them. They need each other, dearly, and even though they probably won't ever verbally admit it, they both know it. I have them figured out, now if I could just figure out what Percy and I are to each other, that'd be great._

Yes, in the two months since the next chapter of his life started, Rock did not know just what the dynamic between him and Percy was. It wasn't brothers, it wasn't father/son, but they weren't friends, per se, it was more than that. There were times when Percy wanted to go walking with Rock, just to pick up some things, times when he wanted nothing to do with Rock and wanted to be with Benny, or Dutch, or Revy, times where he would flop over and make Rock's legs go to sleep, and there were times when he would bring Rock a gun and try to teach him how to clean it, disassemble it, and reassemble it, like a child getting their father into their hobby.

Rock wasn't getting it. Hell, no one was getting it. Literally everyone that saw any kind of interaction between Rock and Percy was scratching their heads over the nature of their relationship. There were thousands of rumors, with the best being that Percy was simply being a kid and behaving how he saw fit, and the worst being that Rock was screwing Percy's asshole, with the Japanese businessman having a yaoi trap fetish.

There had been a phone call from Hotel Moscow that left Rock very nervous and fearful for his life after that dirty rumor started up, and the people that started such a rumor were found, tortured, and executed…though their fate was much kinder when compared to the stripper and strip owner who thought it a great idea to model Percy for one of their shows one night.

Some say they can still hear the screaming of those two coming from Hotel Moscow's headquarters.

Rock tried not to think of it.

Percy was oblivious to all of it.

With a sigh and a fond smile, the Japanese businessman left the balcony for Revy's room. It was time for her to get up and start the day. There were errands to run and potential jobs to get ready for. It was a short trip to Revy's room, and Rock gently opened the door to reveal a common sight:

Revy, clad only in her bra and panties, using Percy, clad in his boxer briefs, as the little spoon, who was in turn cuddling with a loaded grenade launcher. The first time Rock walked in on this sight, he blushed profusely at seeing Revy in her underwear, and freaked out at seeing Percy sleeping with a loaded grenade launcher. Now, though, it was more shocking to see Percy sleeping anywhere _but_ in Revy's arms with a grenade launcher, though there had been a few times the Rock woke up to find Percy sprawled out all over his bed, which left the businessman wondering A) how Percy got into the room without waking him (Rock) up, B) got on the bed without waking him up, and C) managed to get into such a strange position without waking him up.

On very rare occasions did Percy sleep in his own room, which was more of a magazine than a bedroom, what with all the guns in there.

Anyway, Rock did the only thing that could wake Percy up, and that was grab the nearby airhorn and squeeze. Typically, startling someone awake was a bad idea, as they could do anything from roll over, to bound up and attack you. Startling someone awake with a loaded grenade launcher in their arms was an even worse idea, but all Percy did was crack his eyes open and sit up with a yawn, rubbing an eye while he held onto the launcher like it was a teddy bear.

And then he whacked Revy on the head, and threw the launcher at Rock, who yelped and fumbled with the device, falling to his knees with a sigh of relief when he secured it and didn't set it off. Percy scampered away in his underwear when Revy rose.

She turned around slowly, and Rock lost all the color in his face at the severely ticked off look on the woman's face.

"Since I know you're not stupid enough to hit me while I'm sleeping…I'm going to ask this only one fucking time: where is my kid?"

"U-Uh…he went that way…"

"Thank you, Rock."

And then Revy quietly stalked away, the air around her similar to that of a lion on the hunt. Rock heaved a sigh of relief again, and then he panicked when he heard the loud sounds of ruckus, a squawking chicken, and the revving of a lawnmower. The businessman practically teleported to the living room, and saw that it was perfectly unharmed, and Percy was sitting top of Revy's back, holding her arms.

"Get the fuck off me, you fucking monkey, before I blow a fucking cap in your fucking ass!"

All Percy did was sarcastically move his mouth.

"Hey now, you two," Rock tried diplomacy. "How about we just settle down and get some breakfast going, huh? I'll get started on the eggs, Percy you can do the bacon, and Revy you can-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, ROCK! If you want to be helpful, scramble this kid's ass and fry his bacon for me!"

"There will be no ass-scrambling or bacon-frying in this house," Dutch's deep voice rumbled as he entered the scene. "Percy, get off of Revy, and Revy, quit your yelling. I don't want the neighbors shooting through the walls to shut you up again."

"I fucking dare them to try," Revy growled.

Percy rolled off his makeshift people-pillow and bounded to his feet. Grumbling unintelligibly, Two-Hands got to her feet as well. Then she reached out and mussed up Percy's long hair.

"Go get a shower and wash that greasy head of yours, brat."

Percy stuck his tongue at her, then did a pirouette, gave Rock a quick hug, received a light bonk on the head from Dutch, and then vanished around the corner. Moments later, the shower was heard.

Then Rock realized someone was missing. "Where's Benny?"

"Right here," came the casual reply.

Everyone looked to see that Benny was just sitting at the dining table, newspaper in hand, steaming cup of coffee within arm's reach.

"Have you just been sitting there the whole fucking time?" Revy asked.

"Yep."

"You asshole."

"Good morning to you too."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rock went out and a got a shave from a street vendor, and then bought some mystery fruit. On his way back into the residence, Dutch and Percy were on their way out.

"Hey, where are you two going?"

"Just running some errands. We'll be back in a bit."

"Okay…" Rock said. He really wanted more details, as was human nature, but it wasn't his place to pry, and so he didn't.

Dutch grabbed one of the fruits and Percy gave a peace sign, his hair in a ponytail with his bangs across his forehead and framing his face, just like Revy's hair was styled.

Rock continued up the stairs, and Dutch and Percy went about their business.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The streets of Roanapur were such a strange place. They weren't necessarily loud, but they weren't quiet. Hookers making catcalls to passersby, vendors marketing their wares, the odd loud argument between some people…and everyone had a gun.

 _Everyone_.

If it wasn't visible, it was hidden in their clothes. The best part was that Roanapur had laws against both open carry and concealed carry, and it was actually prohibited to attempt to procure a license for ownership of any weapon, without special consent from a panel of officials. But the government didn't exist and the police were all bought and paid for so…eh.

America was often the punchline of jokes around these parts.

Anyway, Dutch stopped at a payphone to make a call to someone, with Percy standing off to the side, twirling his Tokarevs around with a look of concentration, when a car pulled up.

In the passenger's seat was Mr. Chin, once a prime contender for top dog of the cartels, now a petty drug lord barely making it through.

"Hey, Dutch! How's it going?" the man asked.

"Can't complain," Dutch answered. He already knew what this was going to be about, but he deigned to play along. Dutch walked over and leaned on the roof of the car, and ugly green thing. "We're getting by."

"Well that's good to hear," Mr. Chin trailed off. "So tell me…how long do you plan to keep working for that fry-faced bitch, anyway?"

Percy caught his guns and became very still.

The men in the car gulped.

"Careful, Mr. Chin," Dutch said with a malicious grin. The way he was angling his head made the light reflect off the lenses of his glasses. "I can't say that Percy would be very kind to you if you called his aunt a fry-faced bitch one more time. People die in this city every day, so unless you want to end up in a coffin before noon, I suggest being a little more tactful in regards to the stating of your opinions of Hotel Moscow…"

"R-Right," Mr. Chin cleared his throat, but Percy had his eyes trained on the man, making him sweat. "W-What I'm trying to say is that…those Russians haven't been very fair to everyone here lately. They-They came in and took over the heroin routs, and the girls, and pretty soon they're going to have the sea routes, an-and I just think that's not too fair."

"Life's not fair, Mr. Chin. The only thing that matters out here is the law of the jungle, the strong survive, the weak die, and the smart know who to work for. Now, I can only imagine based on your choice of words that you came here to persuade me and my company to leave Hotel Moscow's service, and to that I say: you can go fuck yourself."

"You basterd," Mr. Chin growled, sweating and losing his cool. "How dare you say that to-"

"I'll say whatever the hell I want to say," Dutch said smoothly, and he started walking away. "Good day, Mr. Chin."

"You won't get a second chance," Chin threatened.

"And neither will you my friend," Dutch threw over his shoulder with a smile.

The once-prominent underground figure growled something fierce, but the cold, cold eyes of Roanapur's most infamous crossdresser made him tell his driver to speed away, and speed away they did.

Percy caught up to Dutch and tugged the man's flak jacket to get his attention.

 _Can I kill him?_

"Patience, Percy. He'll fuck up soon enough, and then you can shoot him all you want."

The demigod grinned at the idea.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

About an hour later, Lagoon Company was hitting the open water, having been contracted to retrieve a package from the Vietnamese military by Donnie Yen.

Percy was sitting on the torpedo launcher, watching as Rock tried to make a knot with a length of rope with Revy instructing. The demigod wasn't really paying attention to them, as was typical whenever Lagoon Company was at sea. Percy was always more content to look out over the waves and stare at the Buddha statue without the eyes. It always made him wonder:

Since his dad was real, were the Buddhist gods real too? Or were they all dead now? Or were they even real in the first place? If they were real, what did they think of him, a Greek demigod, being in their territory? Did they care? Or were they so much weaker than the Greeks that they didn't try anything against him? Or was he like, a symbol of pride for them?

 _Hey, look! You see that boy? Yeah, he lives in our territory!_

Percy was brought of his ruminations when it suddenly got cold, the same kind of cold that always came about when Revy was recalling her past. Her eyes were dark and serious, and that scary air was around her. Percy slid off the torpedo launcher and settled in her lap. Her arms came around him, and he raised his arms to wrap around her neck.

"I pretty much did everything that was bad," Revy said lowly. "I stole, I killed…" Her eyes were empty and hollow, dead.

"It ain't no sick joke."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Six boats came to attack the _Black Lagoon_ , a fleet headed by the questionably intelligent pirate Luak. Revy instantly did a complete one-eighty in the presence of the attackers, equipping an M79 grenade launcher, a PM-63 RAK, and a Walkman. Percy brought out a China Lake.

They held their fists out, pumped them three times, Revy's fingers splaying into scissors, Percy's remaining a fist.

"Fuck!" Revy yelled, while Percy pumped his closed fist high.

And then he blew up one of the boats with a squeeze of his finger, and then another after that, and one more to finish out the magazine. Rock watched with a dropped jaw, knowing damn well there was no way he could ever be that accurate. His shock continued when he watched Revy leap a solid thirty feet from the _Black Lagoon_ to one of the pirate vessels, and laid waste to the small crew singlehandedly.

A plume of smoke erupted from the detonation of a grenade, and Revy became obscured, though the muzzle flashes and the screams of the dying were still clearly heard. Something came out of the smoke, and the last boat swerved. The water erupted in a geyser as the grenade exploded.

Revy came sailing out of the smoke cloud of the boat she attacked, looking serene despite the action. She landed next to Percy, loading a grenade into her launcher at the same time the little one finished loading his own WMD. The last boat turned to flee, Luak getting smart and deeming this a lost cause, and the world's most unusual duo took aim.

Rock didn't see the munitions fire, but he did see Luak's boat sink to the depths in a crescendo of fire of thunder.

Percy let his arm drop, and he pressed himself into Revy's side. She put an arm around him, squeezing him to her, and that's when Rock developed a fear for the world should one of those two ever be killed in combat.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mr. Chin was about to piss himself. He was a smart man, in his own way, and he knew damn well what he had planned to do, who he was planning to do it to, and why. He knew he was trying to go up against Hotel Moscow by trying to ice one of their most favored couriers, Lagoon Company, and he knew all too well just who was in that company.

Percy, Fry-Face's beloved nephew.

If the mission had been successful, like Mr. Chin had been so confident that it would, he wouldn't be cramming clothes and money into a suitcase. He just managed to get the suit case closed, when there came two, heavy, steady knocks at his door.

The blood in Mr. Chin's veins turned to ice when the knob was twisted—the locked knob, mind you—and the door was opened to reveal many unhappy Russian men, all of them built like a battleship.

"Mr. Chin," a deceptively calm female voice said, and Balalaika entered the scene. "I see you're going somewhere. Perhaps we can help you pack up."

"H-Hey," Chin sweated profusely, "I don't know what kind of crazy rumors you guys had, but I'm if we just sit and down and had a conversation-"

The prong of Balalaika's high-heel collided with Chin's nose and he was sent flying into a table, an impressive show of flexibility and strength on the Russian woman's part.

She grabbed his lapel and hoisted him up. The acrid smoke of her cigar choked Chin, and her cold, ice-like eyes actually did make the man piss himself. Balalaika ignored the man's emission, and when she spoke, her accent slipped through, something that only happened when she was _very_ angry.

" _Pray_. But not even _God_ will save you from me."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

That evening, Lagoon Company were all comfortably gathered in their residence. Benny was reading the news, a cup of coffee next to him. Revy, Percy, and Rock were on the couch, watching episodes of _Scooby-Doo_ that aired in the 70s, with Percy paying far more attention than his couch neighbors. Dutch was sitting in the recliner, drinking a beer.

The phone rang, and Rock got up to answer. Then he handed the phone to Dutch.

"Who is it?"

"Ms. Balalaika."

At the name of his aunt, Percy completely disregarded _Scooby-Doo_ and bounded over to the recliner.

" _Dutch~,"_ the Russian woman's happy voice came through from the line, _"I understand you went on a bit of wild goose chase with Mr. Chin today. I trust it wasn't too much trouble."_

"Didn't even give me a headache."

" _That's good. Did Percy behave?"_

"Of course he did." Percy tapped Dutch's shoulder, and spoke in his silent way. "Percy says hi, and that he loves you."

"YA tozhe tebya lyublyu, plemyannik. _Now, about Mr. Chin: rest assured that nothing like this will ever happen again. Thanks for all the trouble you went through, and as a show of my gratitude I want you to hear something. They call this pleasure and pain."_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mr. Chin was strapped to a chair in his apartment. He used to have ears…and a nose…and teeth…and a tongue…and fingers…and a penis…and testicles…and toes…but he had his eyes, so that he may see all around him, and right now he saw C4 and gasoline.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Is it cooler than JB?" Dutch asked curiously.

" _Of course."_

Dutch heard the beep of a button, and then an explosion.

"Yeah, that did sound cool." Percy tapped his shoulder again, and he relayed the message. "Percy wants you to know that he's upset that you didn't let him shoot Mr. Chin any."

" _Awe, it's okay, Percy. I'll let you shoot the next one all you want."_

"…now he's dancing around with his guns in the air…"

" _Good. Let him be an excitable child. I'll call you when I have another job for you."_

Balalaika hung up, and something happened on the TV to make Percy teleport back to his spot between Revy and Rock. One of the classic chase scenes that _Scooby-Doo_ was famed for started up, this one involving a figure moaning out "Creeper!" and the gang hiding in a haystack.

"Like, let's get out of here!" Shaggy cried.

The haystack rose and scurried away, the Creeper giving chase.

 _Day dreaming, head's in the sand!_

 _Day dreaming, gee but it's grand!_

The gang ran into a farmhouse.

 _I'm in love with an ostrich-_

And that's when Dutch stopped listening.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _ **That was more fun than what I remember.**_

 _ **The next chapters will also be fun, because Neo-Nazis. I think I'll do that arc, then get back to**_ **Blood War** _ **. My college schedule is in, and I have classes Tuesdays and Thursdays from eight in the morning to two in the afternoon, then I have work, so no writing on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I presume Monday, Wednesday, and Friday will involve homework of some kind.**_

 _ **We'll see.**_

 _ **Anyway, Fav, Follow, and Review!**_


	7. Mitternacht

_Mitternacht_

 _ **Alright, some of you may have noticed missing chapter or false updates for other stories, and that's because I went in and deleted the AN talking about my . For those that don't know, I put up that to help me raise money to go to buying a new car after I wrecked my first one, and that was mainly done through lemons, however, the admins of have suspended my account even though I flagged myself as adult content, and after several attempts and not receiving word back, I have forgone .**_

 _ **Therefore, no need for an AN talking about something that doesn't exist anymore.**_

 _ **Besides, I have a new car already, I make thirteen bucks an hour at UPS, and all my stories are M, meaning sexual content is allowed.**_

 _ **Moving on…**_

… _ **FIVE**_ _ **fucking Reviews? After so many months, after so many strong chapters previous, I get**_ _ **five**_ _ **Reviews? Really guys? Shit like that kills motivation for further writing. If this chapter does lackluster too, I'm probably going on hiatus for all my stories and start binging my novel.**_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't own PJO or BL

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Fifty thousand dollars.

A painting.

A sunken submarine in disputed waters.

Nazis.

Percy stood on the bow of the _Black Lagoon_ , a far off look in his eye as his hair danced in the wind.

Benny was in the computer room, monitoring the radar, the sonar, and the other instruments. Revy was in the sniper's nest topside, her eye on Percy. In the cabin, at the helm, Dutch was driving and Rock was watching.

"What's up with Percy? He hasn't been himself since we left home."

A low hum came from the depths of Dutch's chest. "Percy gets like that when it comes to certain subjects. Nazis are one of them?"

Rock knew it was best not to pry into other people's pasts or business, but he still asked, "Why?"

"Well, Rock, to understand _why_ , you have to accept that Percy is really Poseidon's son. If you can do that, then we can move on with this conversation."

Rock's mouth set into a thin line as he tried to truly stomach the idea of gods and demigods. Considering what he had already seen, however, it wasn't too much of a stretch, considering the seemingly supernatural combat abilities of Percy and Revy, and then there was that thing Percy did whenever he drank alcohol.

"Alright," the businessman said at last, "I believe it."

"Okay then…if Percy is the son of Poseidon, wouldn't that make him the cousin of Zeus and Hade' kids?"

"Yeah…"

Dutch turned slightly to where Rock could see the man's manic grin and gleaming sunglasses.

"Hitler was the son of Hades."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

To say Rock was shocked would be like saying Mt. Everest was tall. The very core of the man's being rattled under the weight of such a revelation, the revelation that Adolf Hitler was a demigod, and was therefore directly related to Percy through a divine lineage. It also brought forth more questions, like who else in history was a demigod, who wasn't, who were their parents, how much of mankind's greatest accomplishments were actually accomplished by men, and not half-men?

What did that mean for Percy, to be Hitler's cousin? And possibly the cousin of hundreds of powerful men and women, _dangerous_ men and women? Did that kind of blood have any effect on him? Was there something lurking inside Percy, some monstrous beast that could put thousands—millions, even—to the sword for whatever reason? Sure, Rock had seen the kid put holes in people, but he had never seen the kid shoot first.

Only shoot back.

It also made Rock wonder that if Percy was Poseidon's son, meaning that Poseidon was still around and actively siring children, were other gods doing the same? How many people did Rock know in his life that he thought were normal people, but were actually demigods?

Was Revy a demigod? Ms. Balalaika? Dutch? Benny? Mr. Chang? The whole of Roanapur?

What _was_ and what _wasn't_ anymore?

"Easy, Rock," Dutch's deep, calm voice rooted the man back into reality. "Calm down and breathe. Percy isn't about to start gassing Jews and gypsies, so you can get that out of your head right now. What's going through his little brain right now is some deep shit, questions about morality, loyalty, and his really fucked up family. Just give him a little bit, he'll be bouncing off the walls in an hour or two."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It took Lagoon Company 45 minutes to get to their destination, but Percy was already coming out of his funk, so everything was okay now, except for the sudden panic of the PT boat suddenly coming to a grinding halt in the middle of the ocean.

Revy, in the sniper's nest, had some words to say. "YOU FUCKING BRAT! YOU BETTER HAVE A GOOD FUCKING REASON FOR THAT!"

Percy just pointed straight down and mouthed, _Subby_.

Revy grumbled.

Inside the cabin, Dutch said, "Rock, get topside and tell Revy it's time to suit up."

"R-Right."

Rock did as instructed, and while he was pulling on his flipper, lamenting about how he had to perform underwater welding, Percy stepped off the portside ledge and dropped into the water a few feet below, much to Rock's surprise.

"Hey, what's he doing!?"

"Going ahead of us, duh," Revy said.

"But he doesn't have any scuba gear!"

"He's Poseidon's son. Why the fuck would he need scuba gear to go deep-sea swimming?"

Rock blinked as the logic behind that notion started to make sense to him. "…okay."

To make a long story short, Rock and Revy got suited up, loaded up, and took a dip into the ocean. Minutes later, Benny, lounging on the deck with a beer and a parasol, noticed an approaching research ship with heavy equipment on the back.

"Not good…" Dutch muttered. "Benny, go raise our Thai navy flag, just in case."

"Rodger that!"

The radio buzzed, and it was the approaching ship. _"To the vessel currently idling in our path, this the_ White Heather _. Please respond."_

"Well, well," Benny said, impressed that manners were being displayed instead of bullets.

Dutch picked up the mic. "This is PT-377 of the Thai navy. We are currently on a mission here. We'd like to inquire about your purpose for being in this area. Tell us your nationality, ship number, and signal code."

Dutch let off the button and the _White Heather_ responded. _"We see you currently acting independent at this present time. Where is your mother ship?"_

Dutch responded, "That is classified military information. I'm requesting for the second time that you identify yourself. Over."

Nothing but static.

"These guys are way too demanding," Dutch put the mic down. "Definitely not normal. I'm going back to the control room. Keep track of them and keep me posted. We've got some unusual cloud activity." He climbed into the sniper's nest and began shimmying down. "And fold up your parasol."

"Do you think Percy knows about that ship?"

"Of course Percy knows about that ship, just like he knows the location of every sunken ship from here to Arabia. The best case scenario is that those three down there make it back in one piece with the painting and some other loot. Worst case…" Dutch's glasses gleamed.

"Percy sends that ship crashing down to Hell."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Down in the depths, Rock was amazed at the dazzling color of the coral reef and the thousands of fish. However, Revy gave him no time to admire the scenery, as she kept swimming deeper and deeper. Soon enough, they got deep enough to where the only viable source of light was from Revy's lamp, the sun becoming just a distant dot far above.

Looking down, Rock eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness to where they widened upon seeing the sunken submarine sitting in the gloom. It was ethereal, otherworldly—scary, even—seeing such a beast at the bottom.

U-1324, a member of the fearsome Wolfpack that brought terror to the Atlantic. Captained by Wentzel H. Ahbe, the submarine's last mission was to ferry a Japanese officer back home, but a surprise visit from a Lieutenant-Colonel carrying papers from the Secret Police changed that mission, if only slightly. The LC was carrying the fabled painting _The Twelve Knights Led by Brunhilda_ …artist unknown.

The U-1324 decided to bite off more than it could chew in the final leg of its journey and attacked two American destroyers. Depth charges were dropped, and the submarine went down for the final time. And here it has laid for over fifty years, quiet, desolate, undisturbed…a metal casket at the bottom of the ocean housing the skeletons of the Nazi dead.

Rock and Revy continued to descend but motion out the corner of his eyes caused Rock to pause, turn to investigate, and scream into the radio. Revy flipped her shit, brandishing the underwater rifle that was a gift from Balalaika.

" _WHAT!? WHAT THE FUCK IS IT!?"_

" _JAWS!"_ Rock warbled into the radio.

Revy paused and looked at the Great White casually passing by. The monstrous shark was easily thirty feet long and built out of nothing but muscle and power. Her teeth were out and her eyes were black, and besides: Percy was in the area, somewhere.

This shark was friendly.

Or as friendly as a shark could be.

" _Calm the fuck down, Rock. That shark won't do anything to us."_

Rock whipped around in the water, indignant. _"How can you be sure!?"_

Revy deadpanned at him. _"Because Percy's Poseidon's kid, remember? That gives him total control over sea creatures. That shark's just looking out for us while Percy does Percy things."_

" _What does that mean?"_

" _It means that whenever we do deep-sea stuff, Percy swims off and go does whatever. I don't know what he does, and I don't care. He could be jacking himself or having a tea party with a tuna. What's important is our job, and our job is to get into that sub and find the painting. Now suck it the fuck up and come on."_

With that, Revy swam for the sub at the same sedate pace she had been using. Rock eyed the patrolling Great White, and he didn't know what to make of the situation when the shark tilted itself up and came back down in one quick motion, like a passerby in the hall would jerk his head up in casual greeting.

Rock just offered a hesitant wave and swam after Revy.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

This was not the first shipwreck Lagoon Company had looted, and it wasn't going to be the last.

When it came to these places, these underwater graveyards, children of Poseidon had this interesting ability to see how it all happened, to see the moments this vessel had. As Percy traversed the narrow corridors, full of rust and decay, as he walked over the skeletons and the dust, and he walked past the instruments, he _saw_ it.

A haze would pass over an area, and suddenly it would come alive, everything good as new, even the men, and Percy could hear them speak, watch them move, smell their breath, taste the salt in their sweat, and feel their emotions.

Right now he was in the control center, and Captain Ahbe was telling his men with a solemn tone that they were 57 meters down, and they weren't coming up ever again. It would be about two hours before the remaining air was gone, and now the only thing left for the men to do was to choose how they died.

It was funny to Percy, how across the world it was taught that the Nazis were evil incarnate, about they marched across Europe slaughtering millions, destroying everything, rounding up Jews and shipping them off to concentration camps, performing sick and twisted experiments. That was all true, Percy supposed, but here he was, enveloped in the final moments of Nazi sailors, and he saw not evil, not malice, not hatred…

Percy saw sadness here, he saw men staring at pictures of their families, trading stories of who the little baby was, who the young man was, the young woman, the schools they were attending, their plans for the future, their aspirations and goals in life. Percy saw heartbreak and tears as these men came to terms that they would never see their families again.

And then he wondered: was that _just_?

Was this fate deserved? They were Nazis, members of the Wolfpack who sank everything that floated from the shores of Spain to New York harbor. Cruise liners, military vessels, civilian ships, all under the waves now. Innocents, soldiers, secret couriers of supplies…who was to say how much death these sailors here dispensed among the waves?

But was that not all done in the name of patriotism? For the Fatherland they so dearly loved? For the cause they believed so noble and just? They people this submarine attacked, enemies of Germany….Was that not just cause for their actions? To attack their enemy before they could be attacked? To defend their allies and comrades elsewhere?

Wasn't that the same thing every country did, attack their enemies?

So what then, Percy wondered, made Germany out to be such masters of evil when compared to every other world superpower that did the same thing they did?

Kill others for the cause they deemed noble and pure.

That's why Percy hated jobs like this, the looting of downed vessels. They always made him think about the nature of man, and the nature of the world. He hated thinking so deep like this. It was supposed to be simple; it was supposed cut and dry, black and white. Good guys, bad guys. People shooting at you, you shooting back at them. Axis powers, Allied powers. Evil Nazis and Japanese, righteous Brits and Americans. Plane-hijacking terrorist scum, brave soldiers delivering justice.

Simple, easy, and without mind-muddling bullshit as you realized that everyone is justified in some way, and that they all believe in what they're doing is right, and just, and noble, and true.

This was supposed to be a Nazi submarine filled with dead Nazis and a Japanese officer; this was supposed to be a monument to the powers of good, that the good-guy Americans sank this Nazi war machine, and killed several evil Nazi sailors who sieg heiled, revered the evil that was Hitler, and flew the evil swastika.

And yet, the only thing Percy saw were human beings that would never see their wives and children ever again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Being under the sea gave a child of Poseidon incredible sensory awareness. For example, Percy could tell you about every sunken ship from here to Arabia, its make, its model, its nationality, what time period it was from, its cargo, how many were on the ship, the damage dealt to it, and he could tell you about every ship on top of the water, and all the same stuff. He could sense _them_ …ancient creatures sleeping in the depths.

Of course, that also meant that Percy was deftly aware of the Neo-Nazi ship that had just fired a trio of TOW missiles at Dutch and Benny.

Nothing cleared the son of Poseidon's head better than violence…which seemed to be a constant in the ever expanding Delayed-verse.

Maybe it's a reflection of my subconscious mind?

Anyway, as Dutch was gunning away and Benny was screaming, the TOW missiles approached with lethal accuracy. They got closer and closer, before three geysers shot straight up, three geysers thin as paper. The missiles were cut in half directly down the middle, and they crashed and broke against the surface of the sea.

Dutch came to a stop, and both he and Benny eyed the craft that had just fired on them. After ten seconds of the vessel not disappearing in a plume of spray, Dutch sighed. "Great…Percy's in a mood."

Oh, was he ever. The boy exited from one place as Rock and Revy got to the torpedo tube. With barely more than a thought, Percy commanded Julie, the monstrous Great White, to his side. The Neo-Nazis had sent their own divers down, meaning it was a competition to the stupid painting.

Percy's eyes darkened just like Revy's did whenever she decided to be serious, and he pointed. Julie shot forward out of the darkness like she was going for a seal. Her mouth was so wide that the Nazi she caught in her jaws lost his head and his feet. Everything else was swallowed whole.

Blood poured out of Julie's gills and clouded the water. The Great White came roaring out, and one Nazi lost his lower half, and another one had the unfortunate pleasure of getting hit by Julie's tail, which shattered his skeleton.

That was three down out of the ten-strong diving team, all in less than five seconds. One might've thought they regrouped and aimed weapons, but these were not disciplined men who had been through the brutal Nazi training regime. These men were…idiots, really, white people who had no idea what to do with their lives and thought it was a good idea to join the Nazis because they paid and they didn't have to do much besides do as they were told.

Still, even if they were disciplined men…this was a fucking _Great White_ , big as a yacht, and they were in her territory, exposed, vulnerable, and then there was her eyes. Those blank, empty, soulless white eyes that just looked right through you and laid bare everything that you were and made you experience one thing, and one thing only:

 _Primal terror_.

At the bid of her Lord, Julie devoured bits and pieces of all ten Neo-Nazis, killing all of them.

Percy swam through the bloody water, not caring in the slightest about any that got him. He didn't care about the sinking remains, nor did he care about the sharks coming from all over the enjoy a feast. His sole focus was on the big boat bobbing above, and killing every last person on board for A) shooting missiles and Dutch and Benny, B) sending people to go shoot at Rock and Revy, and C) simply being here and giving him a reason.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They had no warning, these wayward sons of God. Something came flying up out of the water, and there was the thunder of gunfire.

Percy's eyes darted back and forth with great speed, drinking in every minute detail in the short spans of tenths of seconds. It was funny, the entire crew had gathered on deck before a submersible. His fingers practically spasmed, the muscles contracting so fast that his Tokarevs seemed to become full-auto. He shot every one of these Nazis right between the eyes, right down the middle of their faces.

Typically, a Tokarev magazine was big enough for only eight bullets, but Percy had gone with an extended model, allowing for ten bullets. As such, he brought down eighteen fully grown men, in the time it took for him to soar from the water and come down. And he came down on Person #19, putting both barrels into the guy's eye sockets.

With a loud _BLAT_ Percy got his face all dirty.

He ejected the empty magazines, pulled another two from inside his boots and slipped them in, and then replaced the emptiness in his boots with the empty magazines, because magazines cost money. Percy always kept the extra mags in his boots, two on either side of his leg, granting him a total of sixty bullets. He had once tried to keep an extra magazine in his shorts, holding it between his butt cheeks, but that had been an amazingly uncomfortable experience, and it had smelled funky after the fact.

So sixty bullets it was.

There were 53 of them, or were, as 19 had been killed, leaving 34 Nazis. For a moment, Percy appreciated the poetic justice of the moment: he, the American son of Poseidon, here to kill the wretched followers of his German cousin, Hitler, using Russian-made pistols. The thought made his lips tug upwards, and it helped alleviate the moral weight that plagued his mind.

He had come down right in the middle of the congregation, meaning he had surrounded himself, exactly as planned. Percy brandished his pistols, a cloud passing over to blot out the sun, and using more of his sensory prowess at sea than his eyes, he began gunning men down left and right.

He crossed his arms and continued shooting.

He put an arm over his head and pointed the other forward and continued shooting.

He pointed both arms behind and continued shooting.

He reloaded in the blink of an eye and started shooting again.

Some tried to rush him with adrenaline surging through them, and he gunned them down with ruthless precision.

One big fella tried grabbing him from behind, but Percy spun on the ball of his foot, and put bullets through each of the man's eyeballs.

The cloud overhead moved past, allowing the light of the sun to shine down once again. Percy was surrounded by bodies, splatters of blood all over him, soaking clothes and sticking to his skin. His ponytail had come undone, letting his raven hair fall to just past his shoulders. The black locks were stained with the sticky fluid of life, making clumps that he would have to brush out later. The bodies strewn about the deck, the blood leaking from them spilled over the sides, painting the water, attracting hungry sharks.

Percy was out of ammo, a rare occurrence indeed. The slides remained back, smoke curling from the barrels.

Not everyone had been killed, as some had escaped for elsewhere, but Percy knew where they were at, what they were doing. There weren't even that many, only two, the captain and his first mate. They were in the captain's quarters, the captain frantically dialing a number, the first mate loading a pistol.

Percy went there, running, darting through the halls until he reached his destination. The door was locked, but he Sparta-kicked it open, shattering the handle and denting the metal of the door, busting it off its hinges. The captain was on the phone, and the first mate whipped out a golden Luger with an extended barrel.

Percy took three steps forward, and the big guy towered over him, brandishing his gun with a most crazy look on his face.

"So you are still alive, little girl! I applaud your audaciousness! The name I have proudly carried since birth is Fritz Stanford! And you are the heathen graverobber sent to steal our sacred treasure! Our meeting was declared by God to happen, and it is with _this_ weapons that I shall smite you in His holy name! BEHOLD! The Eisenreich Luger Special!"

Fritz began bragging about the golden gun, and Percy wasn't paying attention anymore. He raised his leg back and nailed the Neo Nazi dumbass in the dick, crushing the testicles like grapes. Fritz fell to his knees, eyes rolled into the back of his head, foam coming from his mouth. Percy took the Luger and pushed Fritz to his back, the man dead from shock.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Sea Devil Percy just killed a man by kicking him in the crotch.

The captain had sweat coming down his face.

" _Good day, Ratchman,"_ the man on the line said.

With a loud bang, the leader of this adorable mockery of the Third Reich lost the top half of his head in spray of blood and skull. Percy tilted his head at the sight, the look of a man with only half his cranium, the blood spurting up from the stump, the little bit of nose still attached, the ears still fully intact, the mouth open, the splatter on the wall, the gooey bits, the hard bits, all the red…

" _Mr. Jackson."_

Percy tilted his head to the other side and tossed the Luger away. He didn't like that gun. He picked up the phone, and in his raspy, scratchy voice, ruined from years of disuse, he said, "Hello?"

" _I apologize for the ruckus caused by the idiots of the Aryan Socialist Union, but I wanted to make doubly sure I got what I wanted, and I also got to see your abilities in combat. It's a shame you hold such fondness in your heart for the black man, the Jew, and the Russian swine. I would've offered you a position of great power among my ranks. You could've even been the leader of the Fourth Reich, with your direct connection to the Fuhrer, but I cannot overlook the taint about you. I am sorry."_

The line went dead, and Percy was left with a feeling of great displeasure about him.

Not displeasure at being turned down some grand position, but displeasure at what that man had said about Dutch, Benny, and his aunt, and the fact that Percy had no idea who that man was, where he was at, or what he was after.

The demigod squeezed the phone in his hand, and the device shattered.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Down in the submarine, Rock and Revy had found the painting, and the gunslinger had also found many other items of interest. Medals, trinkets, badges, other stuff…and Rock wanted her to leave it all behind. To him, those things were symbols of accomplishment, the last testament to the men in this underwater casket. They should've been left here, with the dead, the last possessions they'd ever have.

Revy disagreed. Verbally.

She held up a skull and an Iron Cross. "What are these things?"

"Well…the first one is an old skull…and the first one is a medal of some kind," Rock answered.

"That's where you're wrong," Revy said hollowly.

Rock looked at his companion, really _looked_ at her. Her eyes, usually a vibrant brown brimming with wild energy were now dull and sunken in. Her skin, sun-kissed and unblemished, was pale and tight across her face. The aura around her, typically cantankerous and excitable, much like a child at an arcade, was dim and cold. To Rock, she looked more like the dead than the skeletons around him.

"These are nothing more than things," she said, voice flat. "Strip away all their meanings, and that's all they really are, just things and nothing more. And if you're gonna give these any kind of value beyond someone's stupid little feelings, then that value is going to be determined by the thing everybody agrees on…"

Revy jingled the medal.

"…and that's money. The rest of it is just sentimental bullshit."

Rock looked away. "Is money your god?" he asked quietly.

"It's power," came the simplistic response. "Something a lot more useful than God….And Rock, when you stop and think about it, what are we really valued in life?" Revy took a drag from her cigarette. "God? Love? Don't make me laugh."

Her eyes managed to become even more hollow as she recalled her past on the brutal streets of New York.

"Back when I was just a brat crawling around that shithole city, it always seemed like God and love were sold out when I went looking. Before I knew better, I clung to God and prayed to him every single night…" she took another drag, a small, twisted smile on her face as she spoke.

"Yeah, I believed in God right up until that night the cops beat the Hell out of me for no reason at all. The only thing they saw when they looked at me was another little ghetto rat with no power and no God….What's left for a poor little Chinese bitch to rely on?" Revy jingled the Iron Cross.

"It's money of course, and guns." She gripped the Cross in her fist. "Fuckin' A. With those two things, the world's a _great_ place."

Rock felt sick to his stomach. He placed his face in his hand, and said dejectedly, "I wish I hadn't heard that, I'm sorry."

"Fuck you."

In that moment, Rock found it strange, that word "fuck." He heard it every day, heard it in all its varieties. Usually it was a harmless bit of profanity, but sometimes it had the bite of a cold knife. It all depended on the intent of the speaker, how much scath was in the word, and right there, Revy felt very scathing. Rock truly felt like she had insulted and threatened his being, and fully intended harm upon him.

"If I had been looking for pity, I would've told you something a lot more colorful. The moral of the story is that when you're living on the edge, that's all you really got, because that's all that really matters to you. Not everyone can get off on being moral, Rock. And more thing….All those rich, fat bastards living under palm trees, and all those bitches who think life is all about putting on makeup…I don't want to hear you speaking your mind from the same perspective as those hypocrites…"

Revy looked at him, and Rock truly felt like he was staring into the eyes of Death.

"Nothing is worse than being treated like some kind of whore by your companions….I'll say this once: the next time you gotta tell me what's proper, you'll no longer be one of us…when that happens, I'm gonna kill you."

Rock felt his blood freeze when he saw the uncaring truth in Revy's eyes.

 _CLICK_

The businessman flinched and started at the sound of the hammer being pulled back, but all Revy did was slightly turn her head, her eyes still the containing the same otherworldly detachedness, the same uncaring of her actions and their consequences, the same light of one who had seen the Abyss, and held its long gaze.

Revy looked at the gun aimed at her by Percy without a care in the world for him, his existence, or anything about him.

In the darkness of the submarine, the boy's green eyes glowed softly, creating enough illumination to cast a shadow across his face that hid any kind of expression, but those luminous eyes held enough warning in them to know just what was going through Percy's head.

 _Hurt him and I'll feed you to a shark._

Rock didn't know how to feel about the boy being so protective of him. He didn't know what to make of this whole situation, Percy pointing a gun at Revy's face; Percy, who loved and adored her so much that he modeled his wardrobe and behavior and hairstyle and mannerisms and everything around her, and Revy, who always referred to him as her kid, had competitions to see who could dismantle and clean their gun fastest, and provided warmth and comfort to him in the dark hours of the night when they were able to sleep.

Revy looked away eventually, and stared at the floor between her feet.

Percy holstered his weapon and strolled forward without a word, his boots making no sound as they traipsed across the metal. He stopped in front of the skeleton of the Gestapo man, staring down at the uniformed skeleton with disdain and contempt.

The world around Percy changed, showing him the last moments between Captain Ahbe and the SS officer Spielburger.

"Do you have any family?" the captain asked. In his hand he held a photo of him, his wife, and his two children.

"Yes, a wife and daughter in Stuttgart. So, what, then?" he rasped.

"You know…I can honestly say I'm proud that I fought to the very end for my country. I have no regrets even now as I am destined to rot here." Captain Ahbe turned to face the SS officer. "However, if there's one dissatisfaction I do have…it's that I have to share a casket with some fucking bastard like you that's not even thinking of his family in his final moments."

The captain's blue eyes held nothing but utter contempt for Spielburger.

"Take back that statement, Captain," growled the SS officer. "You cannot compare family to the righteousness of our country!"

Ahbe exhaled a cloud of smoke from his pipe. "It's pointless. You can argue all you want but Hitler's empire is crashing down around us and there's nothing you can do."

"Be quiet!"

The Captain was calm and even sardonic as he came to the realization of what his reality was. "Look what's become of my country and my navy as a result of me putting up with your delusions for all these years."

"ENOUGH!"

"I even say it was worth sinking if my children get to grow up without ever seeing that accursed Nazi flag again."

Spielburger ripped away his hat and brandished his gun, crazed. "Shut up! Take it back!"

Captain Ahbe stared forlornly at the photograph of his family, the wife and children he would never see again. "It could very well be the will of God that out boat sank here today."

Two gunshots ended the memory for Percy.

The son of Poseidon stared at the last remains of Spielburger. Then he snapped out with the sole of his boot, and completely smashed the skull away with a single blow.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _ **In the spirit of**_ **Black Lagoon** _ **, where there are just crazy-fun episodes, and episodes of great seriousness, this was a chapter of great seriousness.**_

 _ **Adding the ability to see into the pasts of shipwrecks is not canon, but it makes sense to me.**_

 _ **The Nazi arc is my personal favorite of the anime, as we see something you don't get to see often in media involving the Axis powers, and that's the fact that they too were just men fighting for what they believed in, fighting for what they knew in their hearts to be just and right. Patriots by definition.**_

 _ **Can't ask anymore of a man than to stand and fight for what he believes in, whatever that may be.**_

 _ **Anyway, next chapter will be the beginnings of canon, though I don't know about release. All depends on reception for this chapter.**_

 _ **Fav, Follow, and Review!**_


	8. Who can it be Now?

_Who can it be Now?_

… _ **well. Okay then. Here's the next chapter…uh…great job on getting past 200 Reviews at just seven chapters. I'm…impressed…and partly bummed out since we don't get over 60 Reviews for every chapter.**_

 _ **You guys are awesome.**_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't own PJO or Black Lagoon

 _ **P.S.**_ Canon is boring, so I spiced it up and played with everyone's roles.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Roanapur was subject to a light tropical storm for two days. Nothing major, just some rain and the occasional far off rumble of thunder. It happened from time to time, usually because Percy was moody. The first time this had happened, Revy had snickered and suggested that they go get some tampons for the drama princess' period. The exact nature of the jab escaped Percy's uneducated mind, but he knew he was being insulted, and so his anger had spiked, and some poor soul's business was destroyed by a lightning bolt.

However, there were no jabs this time, for Revy was in just as bad a mood. Her conversation with Rock in the submarine had screwed her over. It had happened before, when Benny was first inducted into Lagoon Company. His naivete and innocence and ignorance of the world he now lived in, his clinging to the light and happiness and the morality of normal people…it infuriated Revy.

It infuriated her because deep, deep down inside of her, she longed to be just like that.

Ignorant, innocent, and living a happy little life free of the guns, death, and corruption.

But that was all buried so deep within her it never showed.

Anyway, she was in her room, doing whatever it was she did whenever she was quietly outraged.

Percy had busied himself with things, despite his own mood. The picture of Captain Ahbe and the man's family…he had kept that, and through Hotel Moscow's resources, had that picture sent to the man's last surviving son, the babe swaddled in the blanket. He also kept a trophy from the job, as he always did whenever something of worth happened: Percy kept the SS officer's Luger, as a reminder that yes, every man that did things did so because he believed in his cause. Believed in what he was doing was right and just.

…and sometimes what a man stood up for was just plain retarded, or it clashed with your own beliefs.

And that's where that glorious thing called 'strife' comes from; when two parties with different beliefs met and just couldn't leave each other alone. There might be some actual peace and quiet in the world if everyone had the same ideals and opinions.

Still, though…what a boring world it would be if everyone just kept quiet about the things they disagreed with…

Lagoon Company made bank with the painting, receiving their fifty grand from their employer, an old man by the name of Alfred, and getting no less than five hundred grand for all the Nazi memorabilia they sold off to collectors and cults. They also salvaged weapons and anything else of note from the _White Heather_ , and then Percy sent it to the bottom of the ocean.Dutch and Benny handled all the transactions, as Revy was pissy, Rock still had some idealism in him about the medals and other things, and there was no way Percy's mind was ever going to comprehend the finer details about price haggling and deal-closing.

The boy had lessons in military tactics, foreign languages, marksmanship, boat maintenance, geography, and drugs.

He was a gunslinger with a Russian veteran/mafia boss for an aunt and had something of a mentor with the yakuza leader, Mr. Chang.

Sixth grade English, Math and Science was sitting very quietly in the trunk of that proverbial car.

It was getting close to Christmas, but you would never know in the waters of Thailand. Roanapur's unique location around the equator meant that it never got cold, and climate was generally the same through out the year. So, no Jack Frost Nipping at your nose in this part of the world, no snow for the likes of Frosty the Snowman, and Santa Clause certainly did not come to town.

Just as well, as Percy was one of but a very short list of children that occupied the island, and all of those kids, brought up in the worst manmade environment on planet Earth, had to time for the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, or Saint Nick.

Anyway, Dutch was the owner of Lagoon Company, and three of his employees were not mentally ready for any kind of job, and that needed to be fixed. Right now.

Rock and Percy were eating a pizza, when Dutch tossed the businessman the keys to the car, and handed him a list. "Since I'm going to working on the boat all day and Benny will be handling the electronics, that leaves you to handle the errands, since Percy lacks communication skills and a driver's license."

Rock frowned. "Does anyone on this island actually have a driver's license?"

"No."

"Then why-"

"And take Revy, too. She's up in her room with nothing else to do." Then Dutch saw what Percy was doing. "PERCY!"

The boy flinched.

"How many times have I told you _not_ to swallow an entire slice of pizza whole? Bite it and chew it up, for God's sake!"

Percy just stuck his tongue out at Dutch, and then inhaled the whole triangle of grease, cheese, bread, and tomato sauce. The large black man shook his head in exasperation, then looked at Rock. "Just get all that done for me today, alright?"

Rock sighed. "Alright."

And that was how the trio of Revy, Rock, and Percy ended up at the GoofFest strip club on Rachiada St., a place owned by Rowan "Jackpot" Pigeon, who, while a proprietor of women and fetishes, made most of his money from porn flicks, both the legal and illegal kind.

As soon as Rowan saw Revy enter, his face lit up, as he had always had a fantasy of the woman joining his business as an S/M dominatrix, but he almost pissed himself when he saw Percy come through. He knew that boy, everyone knew that boy, and wherever that boy was, Hotel Moscow was right behind him.

Rowan had a deep fear of Balalaika, you see, so for her nephew to walk into his establishment was cause for great concern.

The man even started looking around for any stone-faced Russian men that had slipped his notice and were now inside his club.

Business in the GoofFest was short and sweet, just the delivery papers of 1500 bottles of booze located down at Warehouse 5. Rowan was so scared shitless at the mere presence of Percy, who was looking around with wide eyes, like he always did when at a strip club, that he didn't even question the bill. Rowan just shakily nodded his head and practically kicked Lagoon Company out of his establishment.

The next stop was actually Hotel Moscow, much to Percy's joy. However, inside the editing room, Rock had his hands over the boy's ears, and Revy had a hand over his eyes, for Balalaika was currently working on a porno involving anal, and she did not allow Percy to see those things.

Or hear them.

Though that didn't stop Percy from squirming and trying to look, only to receive an affectionate bonk on his head from Revy, punctuated by an irritated "Not for you."

"So, the shipment's going to be late?" the Russian sighed, her eyes dull grey from boredom. "You could've told me that over the phone."

"Yeah, tell that Dutch. He wanted us to tell you in person. Besides, Percy wanted to say hi."

"And you picked the worst time imaginable. I would've preferred him coming over during an interrogation as opposed to this garbage." Balalaika groaned. "I've got to finish fifteen of these damn things today…screw it. There's a part timer around here somewhere that would love to edit porn."

She shut down the monitor and spun in her rolly chair. Percy tore himself free of the hands around his face and glomped his aunt, nuzzling his face against the scar on her neck. Balalaika patted his head affectionately, her grey eyes now a warm blue.

"I believe you said Dutch had you running errands today?"

"Well, we never actually said-" Rock started.

"Well, then," Balalaika cut him off. "I suggest the both of you get to running. I will be spending the day with my nephew. I believe the two of you have relationship issues to work out, anyway."

The Russian stood, Percy with his legs and arms around her like a small(er) child and ignored the blubbering of the two adults.

"Goodbye~," Sally's older half-sister sing-songed on her way out the door.

Rock and Revy were left with no choice but to continue their errands a member short.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Balalaika settled on the couch of her office, her twelve-year-old nephew resting comfortably in her lap.

"So, tell me about recent days. What caused you to make it rain?"

Of course, she already knew. She knew everything about her Percy. She had him under surveillance at all times, through CCTV cameras and informants and her own men. Dutch also answered to her, giving daily reports about Percy and his behavior.

When Percy spoke, he did so not only in Silent, but in Russian. _Nazis._

Balalaika raised a brow, feigning surprise. "Nazis?" she said in Russian. "What do Nazis have to do with anything?"

 _The submarine. It was part of the wolfpack and…I saw how it sank, and the final moments of the crew. They…they died fighting for what they believed in, and they had families…just like everyone else…and I don't know if they were really the bad guys like everyone says they are._

Balalaika didn't say anything; she could tell Percy wasn't done.

He looked up at her, bangs fluttering. _Do bad guys really exist?_

"Oh, of course they do. Through your principles and morals, those that disagree are the bad guys. Just like the Americans and the Muslim terrorists. Both have their reasons for doing what they do, and both believe in their God, and both believe the other is the bad guy based on their principles and morals."

 _So…we get to decide who the bad guys are?_

"That's the beauty of the world we live in. We get to pick and choose who's who, and no one can tell us otherwise unless they have a very convincing argument."

Percy looked down in thought, and then he looked up. _Then I pick and choose that a lot of Nazis are the bad guys, and some of them are the good guys._

He said it with such confidence, with such a clear-cut line, made it out to be so simple and easy, that Balalaika blew air out of her nose with her eyes closed, smile tugging at her lips. _'So much like his mother…'_

Percy pulled at her cheeks to get her attention after she closed her eyes on him.

 _What's so funny?_

Balalaika tapped his nose. "You are, _plemyannik_. Are you hungry?"

Percy nodded.

"Seafood?"

He turned green and a made 'blegh!' face.

"American?"

 _McDonald's!_

"Alright then. Let's go."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Yes, even in the cesspool that is Roanapur, Thailand, there is a McDonald's. It served hotcakes, sausage biscuits, hash browns, chocolate milk, McNuggets, fountain sodas, burgers, and everything else that your typical McDonald's serves. However, there was a secret menu, like always, only this particular Micky D's secret menu contained foodstuffs lined with heroine, cocaine, cannabis, and crystal meth, while certain drinks were mixed with various alcohols.

Percy knew very well the secret menu, which was why he was not allowed in here without supervision.

The last time he came here by himself the staff gave him whatever he wanted solely because he was Balalaika's nephew…he was later found three hours later in a demolition site that was not a demolition site.

Anyway, Balalaika ordered a Big Mac, and Percy got a twenty-piece nugget with extra Buffalo sauce, a large fry, and an extra-large drink, which his aunt made doubly sure only contained Dr. Pepper, and not Dr. Pepper with rum.

For them, lunch was rather enjoyable. For everyone else inside, lunch was tense and awkward as the most powerful mafia boss in Roanapur was right there next to them, just ripe for the killing, but she was there with her infamous nephew (though some insisted that was her niece) and Percy's reputation as a phenomenal marksman proceeded him.

There was also the fact that no one knew just where the rest of Hotel Moscow was at, and no one felt like making a move only to get a sniper blast to the face.

Percy was seemingly oblivious to the tension, while Balalaika was reveling in it.

However, the relative peace of the afternoon was shattered by several armored SUVs coming to a screeching halt on either side of the McDonald's, making the Russian woman smirk.

' _I would've felt cheated if some band of mercenaries didn't try something.'_

With a small motion of her hand, the snipers positioned where you couldn't see them stood down, and that was the only reason the battalion of armed men weren't gunned down as soon as they exited their vehicles. They were clearly inexperienced to the ways of Roanapur, because they all just charged in, headless of the fact that literally everyone in this city carried a gun.

McDonald's devolved into one massive turkey shoot, and the thing about Roanapur turkey shoots is that everyone is fair game.

Tables were flipped over and chairs were thrown, and guns fired in all directions. The patrons shot wherever they could think to shoot, the surprised mercenaries shot wherever they could think to shoot with their M4 Carbines, and the cashiers had reached under their tills to produce Remington shotguns, and were just spraying buckshot wherever they could. Men and women went down left and right, holes were blown into walls and bodies, lights were blasted out, food exploded, machines broke and sparked, setting fire to the kitchen, and the while Percy was having a field day with his aunty.

Nothing strengthened the bonds of family like shooting people together.

Eventually the plebs all went down, and Percy waved happily at one of the cashiers. The young woman waved back with a smile on her face, and then she got shot.

"Give up, Balalaika! We have you outnumbered!"

The voice came from somewhere outside.

"And we have you outgunned," she said with that dangerous grin of hers.

Most of the lights had been shot out, and with the way the sun was positioned above, all the lighting culminated into this interesting effect to where one of Balalaika's eyes was a solid, glowing glacial blue. Percy's spine tingled as the vicious aura of his aunt washed over him, her bloodlust making a grin of his own break out across his face.

He reloaded his guns, and Balalaika reloaded her Stechkin APS.

Amidst the floor littered with bodies and blood and bullet casings, a little metal object was tossed in.

"Hold your breath and close your eyes," Balalaika said.

The grenade popped, and a flood of white gas came pouring out. Tear gas. However, the likes of the Russian and her nephew were a whole different breed of organism. They waltzed right through the cloud without a single irritation and came out shooting.

Their eyes darted about, slurping up every detail, processing like a computer. Positions of men, their arms, armor, any symbols on them, stuff like that. Percy was faster, possessing sheer, raw ability due to his stronger divine lineage, where Balalaika was refined, her skills honed from years of combat.

Gun smoke quickly choked the air as Percy and Balalaika shot their way through a battalion of mercenaries, all of them having the accuracy of Stormtroopers. Seriously, over a dozen men armed with full-auto guns and they couldn't hit a cloud if they fell out of an airplane in the middle of a thunderstorm.

Anyway, the last man standing became apparent, and he kinda just stood there, shaking. A runty little thing he was, with his equipment looking too big for him. Balalaika approached, and he fell to his ass.

"Thank you," she said to him.

"W-What…?"

"The entertainment you provided. Thank you."

"Y-You're welcome?"

Balalaika put a bullet in his brain. And then Percy put a few more in, turning the skull into a pasty mess on the pavement. He looked to his aunt for approval, and she patted his head.

"Never shoot a dead man. It's a waste of bullets. Clear?"

 _Yes, Aunty._

"Good boy," Balalaika smiled. She looked at the sky. "Hm, later than I expected. Sad as it is to say, but it's time to get you back to Dutch."

Percy pouted, but he didn't protest.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Percy came up the stairs into the residence, he found Dutch and Benny alone. The latter was drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, and the former was flipping through channels.

"Hey, Percy."

 _Hey, Dutch. Revy and Rock?_

"Eh, they got arrested today. Caused a ruckus in public."

The temperature suddenly plummeted, the TV screen shorting out and blowing apart.

"DUTCH!" Benny roared.

The black man mentally kicked his own ass at his brain fart. Percy _hated_ the police. That event four years ago when those two officers had tried to kill him had blown a hole so deep in his psyche that no amount of therapy would ever fill it up. Percy hated cops so much that when he found out that Roanapur actually had a police station, and a police force, it had taken the iron voice of Balalaika herself to keep Percy from reenacting that scene from the _Terminator_ where the T-800 slaughters the whole station.

When Percy had first met Chief Watsup of Roanapur's Finest, he had nearly killed the man. The Chief still refused to be within five hundred feet of the boy.

So, for Percy to hear that Rock and Revy had been arrested by the police, it was tantamount to learning they had been killed and their killer was at the gas station down the street.

Percy stormed out, fully intent on spilling blood.

Instead of running after him, Dutch instead went for the phone and got Balalaika on the line in record time.

" _Dutch~_ -" and that was as far as the woman got.

"I fucked up and told Percy about Rock and Revy being arrested. He's on his way to the police station right now, on foot, with the intent to cause a massacre."

" _On it."_

The line went dead, and Dutch and Benny heaved a sigh of relief.

Not even twenty minutes later, Revy, Rock, and Percy came walking through the door, large pizzas and a few two-liter bottles of soda in their arms, all of them smiling and laughing.

As far as Christmas Eves went, it the best in Percy's memory.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next morning, there was a little gift for Percy, all wrapped up nice and neat. It was presumed that Rock had been the one to do it, which ticked Revy off because he apparently didn't get her anything, but he denied having bought anyone anything for Christmas, as he correctly felt that the holiday wasn't celebrated by anyone within a twenty-mile radius, and so he didn't bother on wasting his money.

Inside the wrapped box was something that made Percy tear up.

A framed photograph of him and Sally. It was his fifth birthday, before Gabe had come into their lives. Percy and his mom were in Central Park, and he was happily munching on a cone filled with blue ice cream. It was a selfie, taken with an old Kodak, him smiling like a loon with blue all around his lips, his teeth stained blue, his shirt naturally blue, and Sally was beaming at the camera, an arm around her baby.

On the back of the frame was the message:

 _She loves you very much, Percy. Never forget that._

It wasn't a hand anyone recognized. Not Chang's, not Dutch's, or Benny's, Revy's, Rock's, and certainly not Balalaika's. Everyone was left scratching their heads over who could have sent such a thing, but Percy knew, for the frame itself was hand-carved from pearl, carved into a seashell pattern, the same exact pattern as the seashell Percy had found in the sands of Montauk years ago, and presented to Sally as a gift.

 _Thank you, Dad._

Much to Lagoon Company's confusion, a warm breeze brushed gently past them through the open window.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Two days after Christmas, Boris calmly walked into his Kapitan's office. "There has been a development in America."

Balalaika stilled, but she didn't look up from the papers she was scanning and signing. "Sergeant, the last time you said that to me, it was because my sister had just been murdered and my nephew was on the run. I'm curious as to what the problem is this time."

"Sparky's spark plug has been stolen."

"…come again?"

Boris repeated himself.

Balalaika was quiet for a little bit, and then she started laughing uproariously. She threw her head back and howled with laughter. She laughed so hard she clutched her sides as they started to hurt. Her laughter continued until she was wheezing, face red and tears coming from her eyes.

Boris coughed, and Balalaika did a complete one-eighty.

"Right then. It's safe to presume that Sparky will blame Sharky for this, even though gods are forbidden from stealing others' symbols of power and will threaten war if the spark plug isn't returned by a certain time period. When was the exact date of the theft?"

"Winter solstice, ma'am."

"Ah. Then Sparky will most likely set the return date as the summer solstice. Sharky will become angry at the insinuation, and instead of handling matters with a calm head, he'll become heated and irrational, escalating matters. He'll most likely demand an apology from Sparky, one that will not be given, and so he'll threaten war as well. Predictable bastards."

"Agreed. I expect as time wears on and desperation mounts, someone may let slip that Percy is here in Roanapur, Sharky's secret son, and visitors will be on the horizon."

"Yes, visitors. I'll contact Chang and Dutch and tell them to be on the lookout for anyone that doesn't belong on Roanapur. Make sure the men know this as well, Sergeant."

" _Da, Kapitan_."

Boris left, and Balalaika smirked, eyes cold. "It seems the coming days will be filled with excitement."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX'

Oh, Poseidon did indeed take a gamble in letting it quietly slip that he had a son in Thailand, a gambit to avoid another world war, and actions were taken.

A very out of place yellow Pinto casually drove through the streets of Roanapur. Inside were a trio of individuals, all of them highly trained, and well-armed, as they had been informed that the monsters they would face in Thailand were quite powerful, and very deadly. Those in the Pinto had an address to go to, and in the pouring rain, it was difficult as the slanting sheet of water restricted optimal visibility.

However, there was enough visibility for the driver to slam on the brakes to avoid smashing into the black cars that came screeching to a stop out in front. All the doors of the black cars opened, and several humongous men stepped out, all of them looking very unhappy.

One man approached the Pinto's driver door, a large scar running down the side of his face. The driver reached for his baseball bat, but the warning of his superior in the backseat stayed his hand.

The scarred man tapped the window, and the driver rolled it down. Luckily, the rain was slanting down from right to left, and so water didn't come pouring in.

"Follow us and don't try to run. We know who you are, and why you're here. Our leader wishes to speak with you first."

His message delivered, the scarred man returned to his car, the other men doing the same.

"Sir?" the driver asked.

"Do as they say. Besides, we're boxed in."

The driver looked into the rearview and saw that a Humvee was behind them…a mounted minigun aimed at their ass.

With a hard swallow, the driver followed the motorcade he was suddenly forced into.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It wasn't a long drive, and parking was easy, at least. It was a bit of a hassle for the trio to get their wisest member out, but they managed, and they quickly got inside to avoid any more of the downpour they had already been subject to. Not a word was said on the trip to the elevator, nor on the ride up, and not even on the small trip down the hallway.

There were four men leading the emissaries from Camp Half-Blood, and they entered a door and held it open in clear invitation. Of course, the hulking muscle mountain of a man behind them made turning around rather impossible. Everyone filed in, the wheelchair-bound leader of the trio taking point, the driver and the passenger taking positions on either side. The five men took positions around the room, forming a semicircle.

Sitting behind the desk was a woman with blonde hair, displeased grey eyes, and a very distinct scar about her face and chest. A cigar burned in the corner of her mouth. A staring contest ensued, with the silence only broken by the pattering of rain against the window.

Lightning flashed brightly, and with the clap of thunder, five guns were popped and trained on the trio from the Greek camp. The driver and the passenger brandished a baseball bat and a knife, but the one in the wheelchair raised a hand. "Annabeth, Gleeson, stand down, please. They're testing our nerves."

The satyr growled. "They're about to find how mad I get when I fail tests."

"Stand down, Gleeson."

He reluctantly lowered his bat.

And the woman spoke. "I honestly expected you here much sooner. I can only take it tensions are beginning to run too high for anyone's comfort. However, I didn't expect the great Chiron to come to my little island."

"Ah, yes," the centaur smiled easily. "There are things that require my personal attention. Apologies, madam, for you know my name, but I do not know yours."

"My name is Balalaika. Ex-spetsnaz and sniper. I am the leader of the Russian mafia of Southeast Asia…and the aunt of the boy you're here to take back with you."

Chiron swallowed. "I can see how that would put a strain on the business we've come here to conduct."

"Oh, it's not me you really have to worry about. Percy gets restless easily and courier jobs are only entertaining when there's someone shooting at you. He'll be glad for a little change of pace and some new scenery. The one you'll have to worry about is his unofficial guardian. She's a bit of a possessive loose cannon, and I have told her not to kill you, but…" Balalaika shrugged.

"I understand. If there's nothing else, my friends and I will be leaving now."

"There is something else."

"Yes?"

"A word of warning: Percy isn't like any of you. He has no regard for human life, and has adopted a shoot first, shoot later policy. If he's upset or you piss him off, he will kill you. He's grown up in the underworld, surrounded by the mafia, yakuza, cartel, mob, various gangs, drugs, alcohol, prostitutes, foul language, and generally everything horrible about humanity. He has a pathological hatred for police, and will attack them on sight unless properly restrained, so try earning his respect, and getting him to like you. I also have agents across the world, so be very mindful that I will be keeping a close eye on him at all times and will be very unhappy if anything unsavory happens to him. Am I clear, Chiron?"

He didn't answer immediately. When he did next speak, it was a question. "How have so many half-bloods survived for so long outside the protection of the camp?"

"Humanity, old man. The rotten stink of this place is so great that not even monsters dare come here."

"How many more half-bloods live here?"

"That's none of your concern," Balalaika said evenly. "All you need to worry about is Percy's safety away from this island. I trust you can manage that."

"You're my sister."

Balalaika's eyes slid to the other blonde in the room. About seventeen, easy on the eyes, natural tanned skin, curly hair, wearing combat pants and a waterproof overcoat. Her mouth was set in a thin line, eyes narrow and jaded, filled with experienced. She had seen some shit and been through some shit.

Balalaika inhaled and exhaled, a cloud of smoke dissipating in the air.

"If you want to see it that way."

"A daughter of Athena whose nephew is a son of Poseidon. What a connection."

"Indeed. Our business here is concluded. Sergeant."

And with that, Chiron, Gleeson Hedge, and Annabeth Chase were escorted back into the rain, and were then escorted to the Lagoon Company residence. The Russians did not open any doors this time, leaving the trio from Camp Half-Blood to get out and get in themselves. They managed, and there was a humorous little moment in which they had to get Chiron in his wheelchair up the stairs.

Standing outside the door, all of them felt a little apprehension at the situation. With what Balalaika had just told them, with Percy being some kind of heartless killer, they just didn't know. They didn't even know how old Percy was, if he was five, or ten, or twenty or somewhere in between or beyond. Poseidon had just delivered the message that he had a son on the island of Roanapur, Thailand.

Which prompted an investigation into just where the hell and what the hell Roanapur, Thailand was.

With a hard swallow, Chiron had Annabeth knock on the door, and it was answered by a man in his early twenties wearing business attire. "Uh, can I help you?"

"Yes, sir," Chiron said respectfully. "We're looking for Percy Jackson."

A head popped up from behind the obscurity of a couch, and Annabeth had an ADHD moment.

"Balalaika said nephew and not niece, right?"

Her answer was a bullet about three inches to the left of her head. Annabeth looked to the smoking gun of the glaring gremlin, and she read his lips.

 _I'm not a girl!_

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 _ **Is Hedge taking Grover's place? Yep.**_

 _ **Is Annabeth non-canon? Of course. Canon is boring.**_

 _ **Is Chiron still the same? Yeah.**_

 _ **Is there really a McDonald's in Roanapur whose secret menu contains numerous drug and alcohol-laced things? You bet your sweet ass there is.**_

 _ **More on why Annabeth is different next chapter, as well as Percy's grand impact on Camp Half-Blood.**_

 _ **Fav, Follow, and Review please!**_


	9. Who's Crying Now?

_Who's Crying Now?_

 _ **This will certainly be a fun chapter.**_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't own Percy Jackson or Black Lagoon

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"LIKE HELL!"

Percy kinda just sat there, not sure what to do in this situation. Zeus' Bolt was gone, Poseidon was calling him in to help find it to avoid war, these people, Chiron, Gleeson Hedge, and Annabeth had been sent to take him to Camp Half-Blood, so he could be issued a quest to go find the thing, and Revy had put her foot down in opposition.

And brought out her guns.

However, Percy's only true despondency for the situation was that his _Scooby-Doo_ had been turned off and the pizza put into the fridge.

To their credit, the Greeks did a good job of not looking fazed by the pistols pointed at their faces, but Chiron was gripping his wheelchair, Hedge had a hand on his bat, and Annabeth's muscles were taught. Rock and Benny were off to the side, the light shining off the latter's glasses, the former looking tense, and also awestruck that he was in the presence of not only another demigod and an actual satyr, but _the_ Chiron, the great teacher from the myths.

Dutch remained ever calm. He sat in his recliner, the sun glasses he always wore hiding his eyes. "Easy, Revy. If they were just here asking to borrow Percy for a trip to the store I'd be right there with you, but we're talking about the world at large."

"FUCK the world at large! These jackasses aren't getting my kid!"

"I take it you're Percy's mother, then?" Chiron asked, a warm smile on his face as he tried to work the emotional angle. He had dealt with many mothers that were in opposition to their children attending Camp Half-Blood, and he had always won them over in the end. Four thousand years of experience helped tremendously in such a field.

However, even with over 4k years of experience, mistakes could still be made.

"Fuck no, I ain't his fucking mom! And if you ever say that shit again, I'll put lead so far up your ass, x-rays will show it in your fucking skull!"

Chiron swallowed and laughed nervously to defuse the attention and assuage his embarrassment. Truth be told, all three Greeks, upon seeing how Percy's hair and wardrobe mimicked Revy's to a near T, thought that he was Revy's child, which had begged the question of how and why Poseidon managed to breed with a foul-mouthed, gunslinging pirate woman that obviously smoked and drank and a clear lack of regard for her appearance, something that had all been passed on to her son.

However, since Revy now made it perfectly clear that she was not Percy's mother, it just begged the question of who was, and how did he end up here in the cesspool that was Roanapur, Thailand? There was so much mystery surrounding the boy that it was making the three Greeks burn on the inside, especially Annabeth. Even Hedge had questions he wanted answered, and he wasn't even a curious person.

Chiron tried to move the spotlight elsewhere. "Perhaps it would be best if we asked _Percy_ want he wants to do-"

"Fuck that! I know what you're trying to do, and it ain't fucking flying with me! He's not a part of your happy little world of sunshine and rainbows and the occasional dark cloud, he's part of our world of guns, money, and organized crime. Your world's got a problem, you people fix it."

Chiron frowned in obvious distaste of what Revy's world was, but he raised his argument. "The problem of our world affects _all_ worlds, so unless you want your world of guns, money, and organized crime to vanish in the fires of war, I suggest you let Percy come with us."

"The fires of war," Revy echoed. "Fucking poetic. It also sounds like business for us. See, old man, peace is bad for people like us. When there's peace, there aren't any guns to run, or officials to ferry, or people to kill. So if your problem starts a war, I say let it. Your asses will be rolling in your graves while ours will be rolling in the dough."

Chiron found his patience dwindling, which was saying something considering he was a teacher of four thousand years. He was also a humanitarian, preaching to his students until he was blue in the face about how humanity struggled and fell and had its issues, but they also overcame and stood tall and accomplished great feats, and so they needed to be helped, protected, and saved at all costs, so that the world would continue thriving.

And then there were some humans that Chiron just could not find any redeeming qualities about.

Revy was shaping into one of those humans.

Sitting on the couch, Percy was getting nervous. He wasn't as smart as a lot of kids his age; if he were to go to any American public school, he'd be declared challenged and scheduled for special developmental classes. However, he was smart in other ways. He spoke five languages, English, Russian, Italian, Spanish, and Chinese, knew how to take apart and put together any firearm, knew military tactics, was an expert marksman, could tell you how much a gram of any illegal substance was worth, and could tell you how much the human body went for on the black market.

His street smarts were on a genius level.

He also knew how to read people, get a feel for them and their motives, and right now, he could see that Chiron was losing his cool, that Hedge's knuckles were white, that there was a bead of sweat on Annabeth's brow, and Revy's fingers were starting to twitch. Percy could tell the tension was approaching its climax, and someone was about to die.

He tugged on Revy's shorts, and mouthed when she looked at him, _It's okay. I'll go with them._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dutch expected an outburst from Revy, a loud cry, probably a few stray bullets, and he'd have to restrain her and squeeze her to the point that she couldn't breathe. That was the typical reaction whenever Percy did something that completely went against her.

Not this time though.

One could've said that Revy's flames cooled, or the wind was taken out of her sails, but that was wrong. Instead, the eye of the hurricane was entered, and what a small eye it was. A tiny little spot of calm surrounded on all sides by swirling, malevolent chaos. Just a little bit too far in any direction and it'd be mayhem all over again.

At Percy's silent words, Revy's eyes darkened and her mouth set. The raging aura around her was replaced with one of frigid malice held barely at bay. She holstered her guns and got in Chiron's face.

Hedge hefted his bat. "Try something, cupca-"

"Shut the fuck up before I lose it."

"Coach," Chiron said, holding Revy's gaze. "Stand down."

The satyr did as instructed, and Revy grabbed a handful of the centaur's tweed jacket.

"Balalaika probably warned you about keeping him from getting hurt, and threatened you about it too, well I'm doing the same, only, I promise this…what I'll do to you will be much worse than anything Hotel Moscow could dream of."

Chiron just nodded stiffly.

Revy turned to Percy. "Go pack your fucking bag, and make sure you have the shinies."

He nodded and disappeared up the stairs to his room.

The air grew thick and tense in the living room, with Revy's cold, cold eyes drilling holes through Chiron's skull, Annabeth's eyes being trained on where she could hear rummaging, Hedge's eyes glued to Revy, Benny's eyes hidden behind his glasses, Rock's eyes darting from person, with him being ready to act if necessary, and Dutch casually reclined in his chair, seemingly oblivious to the potential bloodbath that could be on his hands.

Percy returned minutes later, a duffle bag bigger than he was slung over his shoulder, filled with more of his outfits, boxes of ammo, boxes of the special ammo, about 10K in USD, and gun-cleaning equipment…along with shampoo for his hair.

 _Ready_.

Dutch rose from his recliner, Benny following suite, Rock doing the same. With a glare from Revy, Chiron, Hedge, and Annabeth filed out.

Now alone, the goodbyes could be said.

Revy put an arm his head and pulled him into her stomach. "Don't take any shit from anyone, okay? If they want to start something, finish it, with bullet in their head."

Percy nodded. His eyes were getting a little misty.

Benny next, and he just ruffled the boy's hair a little bit with a smile on his face. "No alcohol. Or cigarettes. That stuff is bad for you."

Then it was Dutch's turn. He got on a knee before Percy, putting a large hand on the demigod's shoulder. "Don't ever forget who you are. You're a son of Poseidon, Balalaika's nephew, and an employee of this company. I expect you to uphold our good reputation and stand up for yourself. Maybe not with guns, but some broken noses and splintered ribs won't be too much trouble. And if I find out you drank anything besides water, soda, Gatorade, or juice, I will beat your ass."

Percy nodded.

Rock finished up. "Um…I, uh…"

Percy buried his face in the businessman's chest, barely coming up to his solar plexus, wrapping his arms around Rock's waist. Percy looked up at him, a watery grin on his face.

 _I'll miss you._

He disengaged and slammed the door behind him.

Rock stared at the door. "I'll…I'll miss you, too."

"You okay, Rock?" Dutch asked.

"I'll feel…strange. Percy's not related to me in any way, but it feels like I just said goodbye to a close relative…"

"Oh, that's good," Dutch said. "That means you two get along."

"What are we going to do now?"

"Same old, same old. Drink at the Yellowflag, kill people, accept jobs, get shot at, do business…life goes on, Rock. Just cause Percy's going to be out of town for a month or two doesn't mean we take a vacation. We still got bills to pay."

 _And that was the reality of Roanapur_ , Rock's disembodied voice narrated over a screenshot of the twisted city. _Even when a close friend either goes away or gets killed, life goes on. Business continues. And the city never stops, not for anything, not for anyone. Hotel Moscow will continue doing what they do, and so will the Triads, the Manisalera, and the Italians. Percy leaving Roanapur has done nothing to the city, and neither will any of our deaths._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was a tense car ride to the airport, even though Percy just sat in the backseat with Annabeth, looking out the window with his legs crossed. The only sound in the car was that of the boy twirling one of his guns about his finger. Although, perhaps the apprehension stemmed more from the fact that they were about to board a plane with a son of Poseidon with them.

Eh, an hour into their private flight and that was enough to assuage nervousness.

In the passenger's cabin, Percy was busying himself by taking his Tokarevs apart, piece by meticulous little piece, and putting them together…with his eyes closed. The pilot of the plane was a demigod, a son of Apollo, and he was doing this as a favor to Chiron. Hedge had a sleep mask with eyes stitched into it on his face as he slept. Annabeth was studying Percy, watching from the seat opposite the aisle.

In short, she was fascinated by him.

Chiron took this time to get to know his newest student. "Hello, Percy. My name is Chiron."

 _Shouldn't you be a constellation?_

"Ah, you are referring to the time in which Heracles shot me with a poison arrow and I willingly gave up my immortality for Prometheus' sake. There is indeed a constellation of me called Centaurus, but Zeus deemed me invaluable to the cause of teaching half-bloods and so healed me."

 _Neat._

"Tell me about yourself, Percy. How did you come to Roanapur?"

 _In a plane._

Chiron then steeled himself for a game of short answers. "Was it your aunt Balalaika's plane?"

 _Yes._

"And why were you brought to Roanapur in her plane?"

 _Mom died, and I didn't have anywhere else to go._

Chiron paused. A half-blood's mortal parent being killed was not news to him, he had seen that happen hundred of times. A half-blood on the run because of their dead mortal parent was also not something new to the old teacher. However, a happening he recalled years ago was beginning to come back to him, and it was making his stomach sink.

"Percy…how long have you been in Roanapur?"

 _Four years._

Chiron's stomach sank lower. "Your mother…was her name Sally?"

 _Yes_.

Blood turned to ice in the centaur's veins. "You said she had died…was it because she was murdered by her husband, Gabriel Ugliano?"

 _Yep._

Percy saw the color drain from Chiron's face. "Did you kill Gabriel, Percy?"

 _With his own fucking gun._

"I-I see," Chiron cleared his throat. "Thank you, Percy. That was very helpful." The centaur wheeled himself around and down the aisle, heart hammering in his chest.

He was dealing with Percy _Jackson_ , the boy who had watched his mother get raped before him, watch her throat slit before him, and had gunned down his stepfather who fully intended to rape him. Chiron was dealing with the Percy Jackson that had killed thirteen confirmed gang members, and two police officers.

The son of Kronos was dealing with one of the FBI's most wanted.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Annabeth had watched the entire conversation unfold, impressed. She was also a killer of men, and it made her conversations with Chiron regarding morality always a memory. There weren't many half-bloods that killed people; most of them lived decent lives, meaning that where they could be so much worse, they could also be so much better, and as such, they were pampered in a way. Not so pampered that the rigorous camp lifestyle was a terrible shock but pampered enough to where it was a shock nonetheless, and there was always complaining about having to do something physical.

She was a different breed, the same breed as Percy, the same as Thalia. Through hers and Thalia's efforts, they had managed to keep Luke from being like them, but it was all for naught now.

As Annabeth looked at Percy, taking a nap five hours into the flight, she sighed to herself because she knew damn well what was happening between the two of them. Without even having spoken a word to the boy yet, she already felt kinship with him, and she was already starting to substitute him for Luke. She was starting to care for Percy; she felt sad for him, wanted to pull him into her side and just hold him there for a little bit.

She could tell he wanted that too. Deep down inside him, he wanted someone to care for him like that. Annabeth was nothing if not intuitive, and she knew how to read facial ticks and body language. When Revy had profanely stated she wasn't his mom, Athena's daughter had seen the flash of hurt in his eyes. When Balalaika came up in conversation, there was just the tiniest bit of disappointment, like he had been hoping for more from her, but got what he had and so he dealt with it.

It wasn't hard to figure Percy out, not after hearing his story. Mother killed in front of him, traumatizing. On the run, rescued by his aunt who couldn't be any more than his aunt. Taken in by a pirate company, the only woman of which was a foul-mouthed bitch who brazenly stated she wasn't his mother. Obviously, despite Percy's heavy taking to Revy, and Revy's taking to Percy, it wasn't the motherly bond the boy was still desperately craving after four years.

And Annabeth could already feel herself taking that sacred place.

Then again, perhaps she was overthinking all this, putting too much emphasis on the emotions of a boy she hardly knew, her own emotions clouding her judgement. Annabeth looked at Percy, and she saw Luke curled up in that seat. They'd be the same age now, if he were still alive, Percy and Luke.

Idly, Annabeth wondered if Percy had wet his bed regularly. Luke had; the stress of his crazed mother, constantly running from monsters or gang members, starving, stealing, not knowing if he was going to wake up in the morning. With everything his body was already going through, with his cerebral palsy and weak arm, nocturnal bladder control just wasn't a priority for his brain to worry about.

That was a struggle Annabeth and Thalia had gone through. To stave off Luke's night terrors about the abuses of his mother, one of them had held him in their arms. He peed on them, which was nasty, but it was a sacrifice that was made to better secure Luke's mental stability, which had varying results as Luke was always so guilty about having wet both himself and one of the people he loved.

But he was dead now, and Annabeth closed off her ruminations before she went deeper into her mental rabbit hole and needed to run to the restroom, so no one would see her cry.

Chiron was up there with the pilot, Donovan, and Hedge was still out.

Then Percy stirred. He sat up, eyes bleary, looking unfocusedly at Annabeth. She didn't know what he saw when he looked at her, if his mind was playing a trick on him and he was seeing someone else, or if he was seeing a blurry blob, or if his vision was perfectly fine and he saw her quite clearly, but whatever he saw, regardless of if he cared, he got up from his seat, trudged over, and promptly flopped across Annabeth's lap like she was his bed.

She raised a brow, and he turned his enough to where she could see his mouth.

 _I'm cold. You're warm._

"Why don't you speak audibly?" Annabeth asked quietly. "Are you mute?"

Percy shook his head, his hair tickling Annabeth's legs. He drew a finger across his throat, then pantomimed a rush of blood from the wound, then he opened his mouth and pointed a finger inside. Annabeth tilted her head.

"Blood got in your mouth," she stated.

Percy nodded.

"Whose blood?"

 _Mom's_.

Annabeth's eyes dimmed as she figured out what happened. "He made you watch."

Percy nodded.

She got a hold of him and adjusted him to where he was sitting in her lap, his head on her shoulder. Percy didn't protest to this at all, and in fact snuggled closer to her.

 _I lied_ , he mouthed. _You're cold. I'm warm._

Annabeth slowly exhaled, her breath shuddering as that was something Luke had said many times. She planted a kiss on his forehead. "I am cold."

Percy had already fallen back asleep.

This is happening too fast, Annabeth thought to herself. I don't know him, he doesn't know me, we shouldn't be like this, so suddenly attached to each other.

And yet, another voice argued, do want it to end?

No…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Amazingly, Annabeth and Percy both managed to sleep for the next ten hours, leaving four hours left in their flight till they landed in New York. Not long, but four hours was four hours, and that was a long time for anybody, especially when they had Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder.

No, demigods didn't really have ADHD, but their battle reflexes, that impulse to always be moving, still prevented them from being still and paying attention. But Percy had his own questions that he wanted answered.

 _Tell me your story_ , he asked, sitting in her lap, facing her.

"My story?" Annabeth asked with a raised brow. "My story's kinda boring. Sure you want to hear it?"

Percy nodded his head, a pointed look on his face.

"Okay…" Annabeth settled herself in for her monologue. She took a deep breath and started.

"My father is Frederick Chase, and my mother is Athena. I was born from my mother's mind on July 12, 1988. I was carried to my father's doorstep in a golden cradle by Zephyros, the West Wind. My father didn't want me, and where he never said 'I love you' or did anything grandiose for me, but he didn't give me up, either. However, after he married a mortal woman and had twins with her, I was more or less swept under the rug for my half-brothers.

"In 1998, I packed up and left when I could make it on my own. My plan was to head for Boston, where my uncle lives, but I met a fellow runaway by the name of Thalia Grace. She was your cousin, a daughter of Zeus, and my age. We decided to team up to better our chances for survival, and the plan to head for Boston got Delayed by an interesting side story in this guy's house…"

Annabeth smiled as she recalled the memory of Halcyon Green.

"I'll tell you about that later. Anyway, Thalia and I got out of there and, while hunting down a magic goat, ran across a third demigod, Luke Castellan, son of Hermes. The three of us survived together for a few months, before we were found by a satyr named Grover. He led us to where we're going now: Camp Half-Blood.

"It was…everything we had dreamed of. A safe haven, warm food, clean beds, a roof over our heads, a life outside of constant mortal peril…yeah, if it's too good to be true, it is. It was smooth sailing for a week, and then Hades decided that Thalia existing was something he didn't like, so he sent monsters after us. We made it to the borders of the camp when…well," Annabeth just smirked tiredly.

"Luke tried to fight a Fury and that ended as well as you could imagine. Grover tried pulling some nature magic out of his ass, and basically immolated himself from the strain. And Thalia's actually alive…technically speaking. If you can call being turned into a tree alive. I only made it because I was handling some hellhounds, and after killing all of them, Thalia was turned into a tree due to a mortal wound, and a barrier went up. The rest of the monsters got vaporized, and I was safe behind the barrier…the last survivor of our little gang."

Annabeth managed to recall all that without a single tear, or much of an inflection in her voice. Percy paid rapt attention to everything, not saying anything, or even moving. Annabeth was impressed with that fact. Percy leaned forward and put his head under her chin, offering what comfort he could.

Annabeth patted the back of his head and stroked his ponytail.

Hedge let out a groan. "Alright, enough mushy stuff, cupcakes. It's making me sick."

Percy flipped him the bird without looking up from Annabeth.

The satyr grabbed his bat. "You want to go a few rounds, cupcake?"

Percy pulled out one of his guns.

"I think that'll be a short fight, Coach."

"Whatever."

Hedge left for elsewhere in the plane, leaving Annabeth and Percy alone.

"Come on, get up. I'm going to teach you to play chess, and then we're going to play until you beat me."

And that was how the last three hours of the flight were spent.

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 _ **Well, I certainly did not intend for this whole chapter to be like it was. The intention was for a little bit of bonding, some psychological conflict, and then we'd be busting heads at CHB. Instead, I hit 4k and was like 'Well, that's enough for a solid chapter.'**_

 _ **Besides, it gets non-canon Annabeth's story out of the way, with Thalia still being a tree, Luke dying at the grand age of seven for fighting a Fury, and Grover blowing himself up because he tried to use too much magic.**_

 _ **And before anyone asks, no. Annabeth and Thalia did not have romantic feelings in this story. However, I'm curious as to what that ship is called. Is it Annalia or Thalibeth? Or does it depend on who wears the strap-on?**_

 _ **Anyway, next chapter is the funny stuff, and this story is not Percabeth.**_

 _ **Fav, Follow, and Review please!**_


	10. New Kid in Town

_New Kid in Town_

 _ **Alright, enough doom and gloom. Time for the fun stuff.**_

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The plane touched down on a private runway, where a white van was waiting on them. Percy couldn't read what was on the side, because of his dyslexia, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with strawberries. And the driver of the van had a lot of eyes on him.

"Percy, this is Argus. Camp Half-Blood's groundskeeper and security guard," Chiron introduced.

Percy waved. Argus waved back, showing that he had eyes on his palms and the undersides of his fingers. The son of Poseidon was awestruck by the eyes, something Argus seemed to take note of and regard with impress.

Chiron rolled himself into to the front seat, and Hedge climbed in behind Argus. After the second row that the satyr sat in, there was one more. Percy and Annabeth got in that row, Percy more following after the blonde than anything.

"Oh, so I'm not good enough for you, cupcakes?"

"You also smell funny, too," Annabeth said.

Hedge grumbled but didn't do anything else.

Percy looked to his new friend, the question in his eyes being if there was some kind of history between her and the satyr. Annabeth shook her head. "Just banter."

It wasn't raining in Manhattan, but it was cloudy. As such, Percy couldn't see the floating mountain above the Empire State Building, but that didn't stop Annabeth from looking at the airspace with eyes as grey as the clouds. Percy also had his own distaste for his surroundings. He had grown up in this city, and he brought back memories.

Memories of kids who bullied him because he couldn't read. Teachers who kicked him out of class because he was a disturbance, his ADHD making him unable to sit still. All the times something happened, some strange phenomenon, and he was blamed for it, expelled from school. They had tried to make him take medicine, behavioral suppressors, tried to make him like a zombie….

His body had burned through every pill and liquid they made him take.

Not everything dredged up from his subconscious was all bad, however, but the things that weren't bad made him want to cry a little, because they were all happy memories with his mother, who was dead, because his fat, fucking stepfather got fired, then drunk, then horny, and then he tried to force himself on Sally, only to be rejected by way of kitchen knife, which he had used to slit her throat after he was done ramming her from behind with her on all fours.

Percy felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and that's when he realized there were tears in his eyes. He put his face into Annabeth's side, and sniffled a little. She let him stay where he was until he got it out of his system, getting her orange shirt all wet, but she didn't care.

If Annabeth had any tears left to shed, she would've been shedding them right along with the boy she was comforting.

A break in the clouds suddenly happened, and rays of warm sun hit just right inside the van to where Percy and Annabeth could feel them, and they both felt a sense of gentle caress about the both of them.

It made them feel better.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

By the time they got to Camp Half-Blood, as it was still a considerable drive from the airport to the Northern shore of Long Island, the clouds were mostly gone. Along the way, Chiron had asked if Percy needed a potty break, to which the demigod had mouthed with a weird expression, _I'm twelve, not two. If I have to pee, I'll get out and go pee._

"Well, do you have to pee?"

 _No._

"Neither do I. Drive, Argus."

After the brief exchange, Annabeth had leaned down and whispered in Percy's ear. "If you were two it wouldn't have been a question of a potty break so much as a question of if you needed your diaper changed."

She poked his stomach and he stuck his tongue at her.

Anyway, since Argus feared taking the van through the barrier, some phobia that it would explode, and no one could convince him otherwise, everyone had to get out and go by foot. Which was for the best, since there was this rhythmic rumbling like something big getting closer very quickly.

Chiron, being a four thousand year old encyclopedia, correctly identified the coming creature based on duration of the thumps, the weight of the thumps, the musk in the air, and because he looked down the way and saw it coming.

"And me without my bow and arrows," the centaur muttered. "Everyone inside the border, now. We're not equipped to handle that one."

"Speak for yourself, cupcake!"

"Oh, Annabeth~."

The blonde nodded and pinched the satyr's neck in that magical sleep spot, then hoisted his dead weight over his shoulder like he was a sack of flour.

Despite the danger of the rapidly approaching legend, Annabeth, carrying Hedge, Argus, and Chiron all leisurely crossed into the magically protected property. It was the daughter of Athena that noticed the problem first.

"Where's Percy?"

They all whipped around to see the boy in question standing at the edge of the property, gun out and trained on the approaching monster. They couldn't see his face, but if they did, they would've seen the closed eye and scrunched features, and they would've laughed.

But they did not see his face, and they were filled with fear because of the assumption that Percy did not know that regular mortal bullets merely passed right through a monster. But, you know what they say about assuming things: it makes an ass out of you and me.

They all ran and made noise, trying to get Percy's attention, but he wasn't listening. Closer and closer came the Minotaur, louder and louder did its hoofbeats become. Percy say the beast's muscles, its pointed horns, the air on its body. He saw the savagery in its beady eyes, the mucus coming from its nose, the spittle from its mouth, but what he was really focused on was the pair of frilly red thong about the monster's hips, both of its sizeable testicles flopping about as he charged up the hill.

Percy had four thoughts:

Giving birth to that thing must've really hurt.

That thong was very out of place.

Based on the size of that dangling pair and the accompanying rod, getting laid by that thing would not be pleasant.

FIRE!

Percy pulled the trigger, and then a wonderfully rendered CGI animation happened, showing the hammer striking the firing pin, the pin ramming the primer, the primer igniting the powder, the flash of fire making the bullet go whizzing through the barrel, and then the slide shooting back, the cartridge flying out of the ejection port, and then the camera focused back on the bullet spiraling through the air at 1500 feet a second, and that's where the true kicker was: the bullet wasn't brass.

It was bronze.

The speeding little pebble plowed right through the minotaur's forehead, right through the skull, and the brain, and straight down the spinal column and right out the top of the ass crack.

A pair of horns smacked into the barrier while a spray of golden dust parted around Percy due to the bullet's kinetic energy. The audience behind the barrier there had varying reactions, with Chiron slack-faced, all of Argus' eyes being wide open, Hedge still unconscious, and Annabeth was just raising a brow.

Percy picked up the horns, examined them, and then tossed them over his shoulder without a care. He didn't need Minotaur horns for anything. He entered the property and tilted his head at the looks he was getting. Then he grinned and ejected the magazine, showing off the bullets therein.

Chiron let a gasp escape him. "Celestial bronze bullets. I didn't think it was possible for anyone to mold the metal into such a shape….Where did you get the metal, anyway?"

Percy shrugged.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _Meanwhile, somewhere in Thailand_

Balalaika was wearing a hardhat and saying things through a megaphone at an army of people digging about a scrapyard.

A mound of rubble started to shudder, and a big metal man stood up.

Balalaika put down the megaphone and was handed a rocket launcher, which she hefted and fired, blowing the Talos prototype's head clean off its shoulders. She put the rocket launcher down and was handed the megaphone.

" _Alright, back to work everyone!"_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Chiron blinked. "You don't know where you got enough celestial bronze to work into bullets?"

 _Nope._

"…okay, then. Off we go."

From the vantage point of the hill they were on, the whole of the camp could be seen, and Percy's eyes shined at how awesome it all was…but we all know what Camp Half-Blood looks like so there's no point in describing it in any kind of detail. If you are new to the fandom, simply go to Google, there is a wellspring of information available to you.

The group managed to get to the Big House without being mobbed by curious campers.

Annabeth sat Hedge down in a chair, Argus went inside the farmhouse, and Chiron was following until Annabeth asked, "Do you want me to take Percy up to the attic?"

" _No_ ," Chiron said with such panic that Annabeth blinked. The centaur cleared his throat. "What I mean to say is, er…it would be best to get Mr. Jackson acclimated to this new environment first, introduce him to his peers so that he can start building friendships."

With that, Chiron wheeled himself inside, and the door was slammed shut.

Percy looked at Annabeth, deeply confused. _But…if the Bolt is supposed to be returned by the summer solstice which is two weeks from now, shouldn't we get started on finding it right away?_

"How correct of you, sea spawn."

Annabeth closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose. _'Great. He's here.'_

Percy leaned behind the blonde's profile, and saw a pot-bellied man wearing an outrageous leopard-print button down, with shaggy brown hair, a full beard and mustache, and purple eyes. He was drinking a diet coke and lounging in a rocking chair.

Percy tugged on Annabeth's shirt and mouthed, _Who's that?_

"Who's that?" the flabby man said indignantly. "I see they don't teach about us very well on foreign soil."

The boy frowned.

"Percy," Annabeth said with measured restraint, "this is our co-camp director, Mr. D…also known as the god of wine, Dionysus."

Percy was instantly in the god's face, making the shaggy-haired deity blink.

 _Can I have some wine, please? Pleasepleaseplease? Pretty please?_

"Huh?" was Dionysus' response. "Wine? Have you graduated from diapers yet?"

Percy unbuckled and dropped his shorts, making the god avert his eyes and Annabeth facepalm. The boy crossed his arms and huffed. _Yes, I wear underwear._

"Technically speaking, a diaper is underwear, as you wear it, under your clothes…typically. I have seen mortals do strange things."

Percy pulled his shorts back into place. _Have I ever told you that wine is my favorite thing to drink? And out of all the Olympians, you're my favorite._

"…I know you're playing me, but it's working." Then the wine god sighed. "Unfortunately, I am in trouble with my father. I cannot consume, conjure, or make any kind of wine for a century, and I am bound to this infernal camp for that same century. However, this sentence started in 1919, so I'm almost done."

 _What about whiskey?_

Dionysus paused, then he looked Percy full in the eyes. "Are you gay?"

 _Uh, no._

"Damn. If you were I'd kiss you full on the mouth."

Percy's expression was one of discomfort.

Dionysus turned his diet coke can into a bottle of whiskey and conjured another for the twelve year old. "Cheers."

They clinked bottles and raised them to their lips. Annabeth practically teleported to Percy's side and snagged away the bottle. She put a finger in his face like he was a disobedient puppy. "No."

And like a puppy, Percy pouted.

For Dionysus, the whiskey turned to water as soon as it hit his mouth. The wine god slowly brought the bottle away with a look of deep revulsion. "You've got to be kidding me…"

A note suddenly poofed next to him, and he caught it as it fluttered to the ground. On the note it said _No whiskey_.

Dionysus stared at the handwriting, recognizing it as that of his father.

"No, whiskey? Okay." And like a petulant child challenging their parent's word despite all common sense saying otherwise. Dionysus turned the whiskey bottle into a scotch bottle, only for another note to pop up saying "no scotch."

And then a cycle ensued, with Dionysus turning the alcohol in his hand into something else, and notes popping up saying "no _."

The wine god tried Zeus' patience for the last time, and thunder boomed. A note popped up with a crackle of lightning, and this time the message was in all caps.

 _NO ALCOHOL AT ALL!_

 _SENTENCE INCREASED BY TEN YEARS!_

"CONFOUND IT ALL!" Dionysus roared. He reeled his arm back—Annabeth grabbed Percy and hunkered down—and hurled the bottle of rum at Mach speeds over the Sound. Then he turned his glowing purple eyes to Percy, because he was a god in trouble, and he needed someone to blame for this. "You! This is your fault! If you hadn't tempted me with other drinks, I wouldn't be in this situation! I'm gonna-"

 _SQUAAAK_

A seagull croaked and flew unto the porch, alighting on the rocking chair Dionysus had been sitting it before he had stormed to his feet. The seagull's eyes glowed green, and he spoke in a voice that perfectly suited a seagull.

"Lord Poseidon, Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses, and God of the Sea, issues this decree to Lord Dionysus, God of the Vine, Grape Harvest, Wine, Winemaking, Madness, Religious Ecstasy, and Theatre," the seagull cleared it throat, which made everyone cringe. Then it relayed its message.

"Try it, bitch. I'll flatten your ass like a pancake."

The seagull squawked and flew away.

Dionysus glowered, filling Percy's mind with images of men being turned into dolphins, which made Percy giggle because he thought it was funny, which made Dionysus even angrier because his attempts at intimidation were being laughed at.

"One day, _κορίτσι_ , you'll pay for this."

The wine god dissolved into a bunch of bubbles that all popped and left behind the scent of grapes.

Percy glared at the bubbles. _I'm not a girl. I don't want to be a girl. I never did, and I never will._

Annabeth just patted his head. "All evidence to the contrary. Come on. It's time to show you around. And brace yourself. People here are curious and lack filters."

Percy just raised a brow.

He had lived in Roanapur. He had walked down the street and watched someone get shot, only for literally no one to bat an eye. He had been walking down the street only to get involved in a shootout. He had even been walking down the street when some hookers tried to drag him into their place, and he gunned them all down.

Compared to that, a bunch of teenagers didn't seem like much of a problem.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It seemed the thunder clap earlier had scared everyone back into their cabins, so there wasn't much interaction between Percy and anyone besides Annabeth. She showed him the usual stuff, like the forges, the amphitheater, the sword arena, the stables, the armory, arts and crafts, the climbing wall, volleyball and basketball courts, and the roofless/walless mess hall.

She was saving the cabins for last, and the only other thing on the list was the archery range, which she took Percy to, and then promptly steered him away with haste, much to his confusion.

He didn't understand why some girls in silver tank tops and jeans would be cause for such an egress.

"Those are the Hunters of Artemis. They hate boys and men, and even though they hate Apollo, they still believe the sun shines out of their assholes, and that their crap doesn't smell. However, despite how much they praise the female as the superior sex, they despise boys who want to be turned into girls, take hormones to go trans, and crossdressers."

Percy blinked. _I'm not a crossdresser, though._

He was right, despite how much all of you think otherwise. A crossdresser is someone who dresses in the clothes of the opposite gender, meaning a boy wearing girl clothes, or a girl wearing boy clothes. Percy's clothes were in fact boy clothes, as his shorts were tailored to allow room in the crotch for his junk, and his shirts were tailored to not allow room for breasts. The only thing he did was cut off the legs to an inch or two below his butt, and cut the sleeves and the bottom half of his shirts off, all in an imitation of Revy.

But he was not wearing girl clothes, so therefore not a crossdresser.

"I know that," Annabeth said. "You know that. But they don't know that, and you will never convince them otherwise. And if a fight breaks out between you and them, and you survive, you'll have Artemis on your butt, in addition to Dionysus. Two gods angry at you is not a good thing."

Percy pulled out his guns with a grin.

"And don't think those make you invincible. That's how you get killed."

Percy holstered them and stuck his tongue out.

Annabeth's hand snapped out with incredible speed and precision, taking hold of that tongue between her fingers. Percy's eyes popped out of his head as pain erupted from his tongue, and he couldn't work it out of Annabeth's grip, even with the saliva.

"And pointing your tongue out at the wrong person could get it cut off." Annabeth grabbed her knife and sliced up, letting go of Percy's tongue at the right moment so that he could pull it back in before he lost it. The blonde smirked at the accusatory look directed at her.

Before Percy could do make a comeback, he heard a young, female voice declare with way too much enthusiasm: _"ZA WARUDO!"_

There was this really weird sound accompanied by a ticking clock, before everything turned a dismal shade of gray, and froze. But Percy could still move and think, so he stood and looked to where he heard the voice come from, and he saw one of the Hunters.

She looked to be about his age, and her hair was white with black tips, and her eyes were a strange purple. She looked like she was contemplating something, like looking for the ups in something she found disappointing.

Percy waved at her.

She smiled thinly. "Hello, my name is Lucy."

Lucy was suddenly next to Percy, and he found he couldn't move. She started touching him, messing with his hair, gripping his arms and legs, tugging at his shorts, running a hand over his abs and pecs, taking out one of his guns and examining it. She even grabbed his butt and gave it a squeeze. All the while, she was talking to herself.

"Certainly not the most impressive one I've met, and you certainly have one of the lowest kill counts, but you do have the potential to be a spectacular Blood Goddess for me, if only you didn't have this. Still, genderbending is an easy spell, but I do that more for shits and giggles than for the plot, and you being a girl wouldn't bring me any fun because there wouldn't be much difference between male you and female you…but I would get to work on making you my Blood Goddess."

Lucy stepped back and tapped her chin in thought. "Hm, decisions, decisions...oh, well. In some dimension I did it, in others I did not. This is one of those dimensions. However, I'm not done yet. I need to check off the Three Constants."

The Witch whipped out a clipboard with a piece of paper on it.

"All right, let's see…Constant 1: OP Badassery…" Lucy's purple eyes glowed. "Hm, alcohol-induced rampages…eh, it counts. Check."

She checked off a square.

"Constant 2: Some Form of Gender Dysphoria…" Lucy just lowered the clipboard to take a second look at Percy's hair and clothes. "Check."

She checked off a square.

"And the Third Constant: Diapers…" Lucy's eyes glowed again. "Hm, some passing references in conversation and a few jokes…not enough to check it though…" she looked at the frozen Annabeth.

"I think reenacting the punishment from _Xenomorphic_ would be too much, but it would be fun to masturbate to. Strangely enough, out of the 170 people currently attending camp, not a single one of them is a bedwetter, so there's no night diapers, and none of the Hunters are ageplaying right now, and no one's got any psychological problems….You know, this would've been taken care of if Thalia and Annabeth had buckled down and made Luke wear pull-ups at night so he wouldn't pee all over them, but they just had to accommodate to his pride. Eh, we'll just do this."

Lucy snapped her fingers, and suddenly Percy's underwear felt a lot bigger. His shorts were stretched, and the high waistband of the diaper easily stuck out over the lower waistband of his shorts. He turned his head and glared.

"I know, I know. It's a running gag though, so calm down."

Lucy snapped her fingers again, and Percy's underwear was back to normal.

"Check." She checked off the clipboard and looked up with a smile. "Thank you, for your cooperation."

There was that weird sound again accompanied by the ticking clock, and when Percy blinked, Lucy was gone.

"Something wrong?" Annabeth asked, noting the look on Percy's face.

 _Nope. Everything's fine._

"Well, well. The princess returns with a smaller princess. I thought Lord Poseidon said to go get his son, so what happened? Did you get the wrong person, or does the sea god not know his own kids' genders anymore?"

"Clarisse," Annabeth greeted with a thin smile. "You are probably going to die in the next few minutes, and I can say my only regret for that happening is that I didn't get to kill you."

"Ooh, hurtful," Clarisse said. She turned her attention to Percy. "I can't tell: are you a girl or a fag?"

 _Both._

"What?"

 _Both_ _._ Percy enunciated better.

"What the Hades? Speak up and stop mouthing at me."

The response was the finger.

Clarisse's eye twitched, and her sisters behind her all snickered because they knew what was coming next. The daughter of Ares couldn't keep the smirk off her face herself at the thought.

But this act of disrespect required more serious action.

"Whatever, newbie. Time for your initiation."

Clarisse reached out, and that's when things went lopsided.

See, Percy had grown up around sons of Ares. Hotel Moscow was mostly comprised of war children, and so he knew how to handle them. The trick to getting a child of Ares to like and respect you was to deck them in the shnoz, really hard. Your aim wasn't to just break their nose but shatter it and send bone fragments into the brain. If Percy had known Clarisse was a daughter of Ares, he would've done just that.

But he didn't know that.

What he did know was that a stranger was reaching for him with intent to cause him harm, because there wasn't an initiation that Percy didn't know of that didn't involve violence. So, based on all prior knowledge of initiation ceremonies, and the fact that he felt threatened, he popped a pistol.

Three gunshots boomed across Camp Half-Blood

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Long story short, Clarisse lost all the fingers between her thumb and pinkie, Chiron created a hole in the Big House when he galloped out in full centaur form, and everyone knew about Percy Jackson, the crossdressing ( _not_ a crossdresser!) son of Poseidon.

Feelings regarding the child included, but were not limited to, fear, contempt, distaste, hatred, and maternity.

The girls of the Aphrodite cabin collectively thought Percy was a little cutie, and the only thing that kept them from dragging him into their cabin for a makeover/modelling session, was the guns pointed at their faces, which did nothing to dissuade their sparkling eyes and group "awws!"

Despite the shock of the situation, Clarisse having her fingers blown off, no one batted an eye and life at camp instantly continued as normal.

Why, just last week, one poor soul had a pair of arrows shot into their butt and died because a monster came along and ate them alive.

The funeral lasted for ten minutes before everyone went to the mess hall for lunch.

Anyway, the only reprimand Percy was given, was that if he ever shot anyone without just cause within the camp grounds, he would be cleaning the stables all by himself for a month. To which Percy just nodded while internally cackling because he wasn't going to be here for a month. Poseidon also claimed him, the holographic trident popping up and quickly vanishing. There was some bowing, and that was it.

After the excitement died and interest evaporated, Annabeth finished the tour.

"And here are the cabins. Cabin 1, the big one, is Zeus'. The one next to it, is Cabin 2, Hera's. The big, long flat one is your dad's, Poseidon's, Cabin 3. Cabin 4 is Demeter's, who is your aunt on your dad's side." Percy tugged on her shirt.

 _Does that make them my cousins?_

Annabeth opened her mouth to immediately say no, but a record scratch cut her off as her entire perspective on the world suddenly shifted as she realized that _yes_ , yes indeed the children of Demeter were Percy's cousins.

The blonde went slack, and she stared off into the distance at nothing. "Huh…I never thought of that."

She shook her head and continued with the cabins.

"Cabin 5 is the Ares cabin. Cabin 6 is mine, Athena's. Cabin 7 is for Apollo, 8 for Artemis—it's only ever used by her Hunters. Cabin 9 is for Hephaestus, 10 for his wife, Aphrodite. 11 is the Hermes cabin, and 12 is Mr. D's. Entrance to any cabin isn't restricted to just their children, but going in uninvited is like going into someone's house. If you do that, the campers inside are well within their rights to kill you, and you'll probably piss off their parents, too. Gods are territorial like that. Any questions?"

 _Why are there so many in the Hermes cabin? Is he that busy?_

"Hermes has an acceptance policy regarding the children of gods who don't have cabins, or children who haven't been claimed by their parents. He's nice like that."

 _Looks packed._

"It is."

Percy looked at Annabeth. The way she said that was strange, but he couldn't place why. He pushed those thoughts away and headed for his cabin. He could hear a second set of footsteps behind him, so he knew Annabeth was following.

When he got to the door, he kicked it open with a flourish and looked inside.

Percy frowned at the lack of everything besides a few bunks and the excessive cobwebs. He looked back to Annabeth and mouthed, _Is there a phone a can use?_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Chiron and Annabeth were both confused as Percy stood there at the camp's landline phone, tapping his foot with a hand on his hip like a sassy, impatient girl. The former two could both hear the ringing, and then they heard a female voice.

" _Hello. You have-"_

Percy hit the two button.

" _One moment please."_

He stood there, tapping his foot and twisting slightly side to side.

" _Hello. You have-"_

Percy hit the eight button.

" _One moment please."_

He stood there a little longer, before the phone picked back up, an amicable, gruff voice spoke with a Russian accent.

" _Mr. Jackson. How can we be of service today?"_

Chiron and Annabeth shared a look.

Percy began tapping the receiver, and it didn't take long for the centaur and the daughter of Athena to figure out he was tapping in Morse Code, but he was doing it in such a fast pace that both had trouble accurately translating.

After three straight minutes of tapping out his message, Percy stopped.

The man on the other end of the line was silent, then everyone heard an intake of breath. _"Give…me an hour, Mr. Jackson."_

Percy hung up.

"What happens in an hour?" Chiron asked, none too calm.

The centaur's anxiety increased at the mischievous grin on Percy's face. _You'll see._

Annabeth and Chiron shared a look.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

An hour later, Camp Half-Blood was suddenly beset by visitors.

And by visitors, I mean an entire Mexican construction crew with all the necessary equipment to build a city.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _ **I need to get my thoughts in better order.**_

 _ **However, we got the Three Constants out of the way, as well as the Minotaur, meeting Dionysus, Clarisse's initiation gone wrong, and the grand tour of Camp Half-Blood.**_

 _ **Next chapter will be pure laughs. Or at least, the first part of it.**_

 _ **Fav, Follow, and Review!**_


	11. Turn Up the Radio

_Turn Up the Radio_

 _ **Yay! 300 Reviews with just ten chapters!**_

 _ **You guys are awesome!**_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't own PJO or BL

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Chiron!" Dionysus demanded. "Chiron! How did all these Mexican get inside my borders!"

"They were let in, sir."

" _Who_ let them in!?"

"Percy, sir."

" _How!?_ "

"Well, sir, as he has been claimed by Poseidon, and is the only child of Poseidon within the grounds, by default, he is the head counselor of Cabin 3, which gives him the authority to let monsters and mortals within the grounds for…whatever he can think of. And he chose to let in this small army of Mexicans with their construction equipment."

"But _why_!?"

"I suspect he intends to build something large and needed help to do so."

" _What_ exactly does he intended to build with _this_ much personnel?"

Chiron looked at the wine god with a blank face. "Do I look psychic to you?"

Dionysus grumbled as he stormed down the way to the cabins, where he found Percy surrounded by Mexicans and campers in hardhats and construction vests…behind a safety wall.

"Mr. Jackson!"

Percy looked up with fluttering eyes. _Hm?_

"What are you doing?"

 _Remodeling._

That's when the wine god saw the detonator with the push-down handle. "What are you remodeling, exactly?"

 _Cabin 11._

With that, Percy slammed the handle down, and the camp shuttered under the destruction of the Hermes cabin. A big plume of black smoke rose into the air, and everyone brandished water balloons with whoops and hollers, and started tossing them en masse at the flames. In seconds, the fire was out, the smoke was gone, and only steam remained.

Percy spun on his heel with a great big grin and whipped out a blueprint.

Annabeth, some big Russian guy, and a pot-bellied Mexican with a bushy mustache examined the plan, and they all nodded. The brown guy turned around and started barking orders in rapid-fire Spanish, the most common word being _Vamos_.

The labor force left trails of dust behind them as they moved to operate machinery and get materials ready, campers helping where they could.

" _Why_ are you remodeling the Hermes cabin?" Dionysus ground out.

 _It was too small. Needs to be bigger._

"It was perfectly fine the way it was. Perhaps if my siblings kept better control over their pantaloons, there wouldn't be problem."

Percy placed his hands on his hips with a pouty expression. _Are you going to help out or not?_

"Urg, just don't make too much noise. It's my naptime."

Percy nodded, and Dionysus turned into a bunch of bubbles. The son of Poseidon then proceeded to flip on a boom box that blasted, at maximum volume, the band Autograph's greatest hit single.

Which happens to be the title of this chapter.

What followed next was a construction montage of clearing out wreckage, laying new foundation, building on top of it, shouldering furniture into the building, setting it up, and drinking beers. There were plenty of laughs in this montage, with people getting shocked from trying to wire stuff, pranks, and Mexicans struggling to haul something heavy only for a kid to come toddling by with the same load on them, humming along to the song.

Percy also tried to drink a beer with the boys, only for Annabeth to snag it out of his hand before a drop could touch his lips, and bonk him on the head with a firm "no."

Percy dramatically pointed with his arms at the little kids of the various cabins getting to drink, to which Annabeth just shrugged, her body language sending the clear message of "you are my problem, not them."

Percy pouted.

Off to the side, a boy and girl set of siblings were passed out with red faces, a smattering of empty bottles around them. The siblings couldn't have been any more than eight.

Magically, literally, because Mexicans were fast like that, within a five-minute period of time, the new Cabin 11 was standing tall and proud, with new paint, plenty of new bunkbeds, and a gleaming chrome caduceus over the door. The head councilor of the cabin, a daughter of Hermes called Brittney, had happy tears in her eyes when she scooped Percy off the ground and gave him a big thank-you kiss on his cheek, campers cheering and clapping.

Percy flushed and just gave an awkward thumbs-up.

The head builder was given a suitcase by the big Russian guy. Upon opening the suitcase, a golden light shined, making the head builder's mouth water and his eyes widen. He shut the suitcase and vigorously shook hands with the big Russian guy, who just smiled thinly.

The Mexicans then packed up and vacated the area, their job done, and their services paid for.

"That was fun," Annabeth said, standing next to Percy.

He turned to her with a grin. _It's not over yet._

A big weight settled in the blonde's stomach. "What does that mean?"

 _My cabin now._ Percy looked to the big Russian guy. _Stanislav._

Stanislav nodded. He whipped out a flip-phone, dialed a number, and started speaking in Russian when the line picked up. No one had any idea what was being said, besides Percy, because out of the 150-ish campers, none of them spoke Russian.

A few of the Hunters did, but none of them were around for the buildingfest that just happened. Too many boys. And they didn't like Percy not being a girl. Zoё had been excited to see a daughter of Poseidon, given Percy's appearance from a distance, but was restrained by Lucy from shooting an arrow into his crotch for his "deception."

Anyway, not three minutes later, whirring helicopter blades were heard, and on the horizon by the road, there was an approaching dust cloud. Not three minutes after that, a Mil Mi-26 Russian transport helicopter was parked in front of Cabin 1, along with a convoy of black Suburbans.

"Percy," Annabeth said patiently, "what is all of this?"

All of the vehicles had been loaded down with crates that had gods-know-what inside them. Percy grinned and produced a crowbar. He jammed it under a lid and wrenched it off. He promptly pulled out an AK-47.

Annabeth's grey eyes slowly panned over the hundred or so crates, and she felt a great weight settle in her stomach. "Please tell me all of these aren't full of AKs."

 _All of these aren't full of AKs._

Percy wrenched open another lid, and hefted out an RPG. Annabeth's eyes popped out of her skull. "Watch where you point that thing-!"

She dove for the dirt went Percy accidentally set the weapon off. The rocket went speeding across the camp and into the lava wall, exploding it in a fantastic eruption of molten rock. Luckily no one was on it, but the explosion was enough to garner even more attention to Percy and all the vehicles than there already was.

And that's when the mob came, and Percy just grinned like a loon.

"Oh no…" Annabeth lamented.

Crates were busted open left and right, guns of all kinds being taken out and examined, with lots of people being accidentally shot because the campers knew swords and shields, not firearms. Lots were really confused over why the gun wasn't firing, and Percy showed them how to disengage the safety, making lots of people feel very stupid at the simple click of the button.

Boxes of ammo were opened. Boxes of grenades were opened. Boxes of candy were opened.

Targets were set up in the canoe lake and fired upon. Turns out the targets were explosive, which made the naiads huddle in trembling groups at the bottom of the lake. The wooden dummies in the arena were shot to pieces, straw flying everywhere and littering the ground. The grenades were everyone's favorite item, because there was just something inherently exhilarating at throwing a little object, and watching it go boom.

In under an hour, Percy Jackson had singlehandedly changed the mindset of literally every camper, because shooting something was a lot more fun than hacking at it.

Of course, all good things come to an end, and Percy kindly asked for all his weapons back. He did indeed get all his weapons back, mainly because Brittney was the foremost daughter of the thief god, and magically knew who stole stuff and where they were hiding it. As thanks for expanding her overly cramped cabin, she ensured all the items were returned…at gunpoint, in some cases.

After everything was returned, Stanislav popped up with a clipboard that had a sheet of paper on it.

"Right then. I have order list. Thirty AK-47s. Thirty RPDs. Thirty Spas-12s. Ten Dragunov sniper rifles. Twenty RPGs. One hundred grenades. And five boxes of ammunition for each individual firearm, along with cleaning and maintenance supplies. After initial touchdown and subsequent raid of delivery, all firearms are accounted for, two boxes of ammunition for each are empty, and only fifty-two grenades are left. Therefore, client will be charged for remaining merchandise. Sign, please."

Stanislav handed the pen and clipboard over, Percy scribbled something that looked vaguely like a signature, and Stanislav said, "Thank you for your business. _Da svidania._ "

 _Bye!_

Stanislav produced a weird-looking amulet thingy, and vanished in a swirl of green energy.

Annabeth blinked. "Now what are you going to do?"

 _Get all this stuff inside my cabin._

And the next hour was spent hauling all the crates inside Cabin 3, and neatly organizing all of them about the cabin. When Percy was done, his home away from home resembled an armory. Just like he liked it.

With his hands on his hips, he let out a breath of satisfaction. _That was fun_. _Anything else we can do?_

"Do you feel like you've been appropriately situated at camp?" Annabeth asked.

 _Yes_.

"Then, as per Chiron's instructions, it's time you meet the Oracle."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Percy was unimpressed with the Oracle.

It was a shriveled mummy wearing an old hippy dress.

The rest of the attic was far more impressive, and so Percy started rummaging through all the junk, looking for anything of interest to him. Meanwhile, the Oracles eye started glowing green, and that shriveled mouth opened to release green fog. Percy eventually noticed the happenings, and got curious enough to investigate.

He toddled over to the Oracle, and he could swear he heard it talking to him.

 _I am the Oracle of Delphi. Speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the Mighty Python. Approach, seeker, and ask._

So Percy approached and asked, _Where is the Master Bolt?_

 _On planet Earth._

Percy blinked. _Where on planet Earth?_

 _The Continental United States._

 _Where on the Continental United States?_

 _Look, kid. I just work here, alright? I didn't ask for this or want this, but I'm stuck playing twenty questions with your girly butt, and you're asking all the wrong fucking questions. You're supposed to ask "What is my destiny?" and then we go from there. So, let's try again. Approach, seeker, and ask._

Percy frowned. _What's my destiny?_

The Oracle inhaled, seemingly getting ready to deliver some epic rhymes, and then it started coughing and hacking like it just swallowed a squirrel. After clearing its throat, it then said:

 _In this universe of DelayedInspiration_

 _Canon never goes correctly because of previous causation_

 _So go to the Underworld entrance in DOA Recording Studios_

 _And make it up from there_

' _Cause fuck if I care_

The green mist was sucked into the Oracle's mouth, and then thing went limp.

Percy stared at it…then he inched closer, closer, and closer again…and poked it. When nothing happened, he poked it again, and again, and again, and when there was no response, he started drumming on the head.

Which the Oracle didn't like because it suddenly came back to life.

 _That's it!_

 _Diapers!_

 _Diapers for everyone!_

 _Diapers for you!_

 _Diapers for your family!_

 _And Diapers for your cow!_

Percy squeaked and vanished in a cloud of dust.

 _Fucking kids and their fucking disrespect,_ the Oracle grumbled. _Back in my day, the kids were whipped into shape by having their asses thrown in the factories to make bullets and guns for their daddies. This damn generation needs a war._

The mummy fell silent once again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Percy got down the stairs and was relieved to not see anyone visibly wearing any kind of absorbent undergarments.

Chiron asked something, but Percy went right up to Annabeth and asked, _Are you wearing a diaper?_

"Of course," she answered like this was common knowledge. "Everyone wears diapers nowadays since the Great Plumbing Catastrophe."

The color drained from Percy's face.

Annabeth snorted and patted his head. "No, I am not wearing a diaper." Then she looked confused. "Why would you ask that?"

 _The Oracle is weird._

"What'd she say?"

… _that thing is a she?_

"Yes. What'd she say?"

 _Go to the Underworld entrance in DOA Recording Studios._

Annabeth stood there, waiting for the rest of it, and when nothing else came up, she blinked. "That's it?"

 _Yes._

"No twisting rhymes, or vague lines?"

 _Nope._

"…wow. She's never that straight forward."

"Well," Chiron spoke up, "perhaps the direness of our situation was enough to spawn a less indirect prophecy. Regardless, the prophecy has been given. Hades is now clearly the one who has the Bolt, and you, Percy have been instructed to retrieve it. Your destination is in Los Angeles, and as per every quest, you are to pick two members, and you will be given supplies for the quest. Now, who will you pick?"

Percy blinked. _If we're trying to avoid a war, shouldn't we send, like, the best and most experienced campers?_

"No. It is _your_ quest, and you must do it."

 _I'm twelve._

"I know. Your quest."

 _Okay…but if we're going to Hell, to fight my uncle who has my other uncle's weapon, and an army of dead people…shouldn't we send, like everyone we have here since there's probably going to be a really big fight?_

"No. _Your_ quest, Percy. You must do it yourself…and with two others. Now, who are your picks?"

 _Annabeth and Hedge._

Chiron blinked. "Annabeth, I understand, but why Mr. Hedge?"

 _I like him. He's cool. Annoying, but cool._

"…very well, then. I'll send word to him immediately. In the meantime, Annabeth, Percy, pack what gear you think you will need. I'll have Argus prepare your quest packs and get the van ready. It will take you as far as the bus stop, and then you are on your own."

Percy tilted his head to the side. _If this is a quest to save the world, shouldn't we get the best equipment you have here, and a guard detail all the way to California, and, like, a plane or something? Or at least a convoy of tanks? Something more than just being dropped off at a bus stop?_

"That's not how quests work."

 _Quests are fucking retarded._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The van's engine hummed. Hedge was already riding shotgun, baseball bat on his shoulder. Annabeth was patiently waiting for Percy to come toddling up the hill, and he did so with only a backpack. If not for his skimpy get up and the guns at his chest, he was the perfect image of a dutiful sixth grader on his way to school. Annabeth didn't bother asking what was in that bag, for she could smell the gunpowder from here.

Chiron was down in the camp. Apparently, someone had tried to launch a panty-raid on Cabin 8, and so he was having to placate the Hunters while also trying to find a suitable punishment for the offender…who was a girl.

Quite the conundrum.

Before the quest departed, Brittney, Hermes' daughter came running up with a shoebox.

"Quests are a lot more dangerous without magic items. Take these."

Inside was a pair of sneakers.

Brittney took one out, yelled "Maia!" and held on as wings fluttered out and the show tried to fly away. She yelled "Maia!" again and the shoe settled down. "Neat, huh? Stole 'em from one of Dad's warehouses."

"Thanks, Brittney," Annabeth said, and accepted the shoebox.

Brittney winked at Percy and ran back down the hill.

The boy reached for the shoebox, only for it to be pulled out of reach.

"Sorry, Percy," said Annabeth. "Flying's too dangerous for you."

He pouted the whole way to the bus stop.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

And then did a complete one-eighty as soon as they got there. He was practically vibrating with excitement at something neither Hedge nor Annabeth could figure out, and the only thing he did to clue them in was bring the "hang loose" sign up to his ear, turning it into the "phone" sign.

"Ah, Percy? Demigods aren't aloud to use phones. It attracts monsters."

He just gave her a look like "does it look like I care about monsters?"

Annabeth shared a look with Hedge, who nodded. With that, Annabeth approached a mortal, snapped her fingers, took the phone from the now-dazed-eyed person, and gave it to Percy. He typed in a number, and stood there with same impatient-like posture he had used—

Oh.

That was what he was doing.

" _Hello. You have-"_

Percy hit a button. Waited.

" _Hello. You have-"_

Percy hit another button. Waited some more. Then:

" _Hey, Balalaika's nephew! You know, I heard you were in town, and that you might be calling me, but I never actually expected it to happen. So, need some wheels?"_

Percy tapped his order in Morse Code, taking five minutes to do so. During that five minutes, Annabeth had her head on a swivel, eyes peeled for anything unsavory. Hedge tapped her shoulder and coughed.

"I just realized: you half-bloods can't use cellphones because monsters key into your voices being transmitted through the airwaves. Since Percy doesn't talk, his voice doesn't get transmitted, which means-"

"-that we don't have to worry about monsters attacking, and we _can_ use cellphones as long as we don't talk into them. Hedge, you're a genius."

"Don't get mushy on me cupcake," the satyr grumbled, looking away with a faint dusting of red on his cheeks at the praise.

" _All right. Coming right up for you, kid."_

The line went dead and Percy flipped the phone shut.

"Should we expect a convoy of Mexicans?" Annabeth asked.

Percy shook his head.

"I didn't even know there were that many Mexicans this far north," Hedge muttered. "I thought they were all down south in Texas."

"Well, they aren't really from Mexico, so much as Puerto Rico," Annabeth said. "Most Latinos in New York are of Puerto Rican descent."

"Oh. Good to know."

The daughter of Athena turned to Percy. "What exactly did you do?"

 _Ordered a ride._

"Ordered a ride? What kind of ride?"

 _The kind that has four wheels, tires, an engine, a frame, breaks, doors, windows, air conditioning, and a steering wheel. You know, the kind of ride that almost everyone has._

"Alright, smartass."

Percy beamed.

"If you ever get that kind of smart with me again, I'll put you over my knee and _blister_ your ass."

 _And Revy will blow so many holes in your ass, you'll get to pick which one you poop out of._

Annabeth actually paused at that one, knowing it to not be so much a threat or a speculation, but a statement of truth.

Percy pointed. _Ride's here!_

Hedge and Annabeth looked, and both of their jaws slammed through the sidewalk.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _ **Short chapter, but it's where I want it to be.**_

 _ **Notable events of this one: Percy remodeled the Hermes cabin with a small army of Mexicans (or Puerto Ricans). He turned his cabin into an armory and has given the demigods gun fever. And Hedge discovered that demigods, can, in fact, use cellphones.**_

 _ **I looked it up on the wiki, and it says "monsters are attracted to demigod voices being sent through the air using cell phones."**_

 _ **So, no voice, no monsters.**_

 _ **We also had yet another fun scene with the Oracle. One of my favorite comic relief sessions, honestly.**_

 _ **However, my favorite scene is Percy talking with Chiron about the quest. Like, honestly. This quest involves some twelve-year-olds going straight into literal Hell, to face off against the presumed traitorous god of that Hell, who is suspected of being in possession of the reputed most powerful weapon in the universe, and the only thing you're going to do for them is take them to a bus stop with a few camping supply bags?**_

 _ **Really? I think experience and power and numbers and common sense win out over "it's your quest."**_

 _ **But anyway.**_

 _ **Also, Percy will regrettably be missing out on the Roberta arc, because there was no viable way I could do that without it being less than a hundred words long, for several reasons.**_

 _ **Percy would hand Roberta her umbrella. He's better than she is, and better than Revy.**_

 _ **The first confrontation takes place in the Yellowflag, with alcohol literally everywhere. Percy would get a bottle and turn everyone into a grease stain.**_

 _ **Roberta**_ _ **hurts**_ _ **Revy, knocking her out, even. When that moment happens, Percy would go ballistic, and plot armor would not save the maid.**_

 _ **Hotel Moscow really does have eyes on Percy, and where they recognize his desire for independence, they also have orders to keep him safe. Roberta presents a clear danger to Lagoon Company, and she would not live through a sniper round to her skull.**_

 _ **That final fight, where Revy and Roberta duke it out, Percy would not let that happen no matter what anyone said or did, and would splatter Roberta all over a shipping crate.**_

 _ **However, I did see good chemistry between Percy and Garcia, with the Lovelace boy being totally befuddled with the demigod. Would've been some interactions. Unfortunately, not happening.**_

 _ **Sorry, not sorry.**_

 _ **In conclusion, I've dropped a hint at the pairing for Percy. Here's another hint: it's not Brittney.**_

 _ **Fav, Follow, and Review please!**_


	12. War Machine

_War Machine_

 _ **No one got the hint.**_

 _ **The hint was Puerto Rico.**_

 _ **Now, go run to Google to figure out what Puerto Rico has to do with Percy Jackson.**_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't own PJO or BL

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hedge and Annabeth were having trouble believing what they were seeing. Sure, they had seen vehicles like this before, but never one that looked like this. This thing looked like it refined the phrase "Hell on wheels."

Simply put, it was a Hummer stretch limo…built to singlehandedly mow down ISIS.

The entire length of the vehicle was covered in armor plating. There was an extra set of tires and wheels behind those that were visible, in case something happened to the primary ones. There was a military-grade grill on the front, designed and built to ram through buildings. There was a radar and satellite dish on top, encased in a dome of bullet proof glass, and there were two mounted chain guns on the top, and judging by the little devices on them, they were remote controlled from within. There was also no telling what kind of hidden goodies were on this thing, either.

And if the weapons and the armor didn't unnerve you, the incredibly deep rumble of the engine, so deep it was causing the glass of the bus stop to vibrate, was enough to make to have to consciously hold your poop in.

Hedge was the first to peel his jaw out of the concrete, and he swooned with hearts in his eyes.

Annabeth managed to haul her own jaw into place. "Percy…what is this thing?"

 _A modified Hummer stretch limo._

"And how much did it cost?"

Percy shrugged.

"Is it even coming out of your pocket, or Hotel Moscow's?"

 _I don't know._

Annabeth sighed at the child's over-simplicity.

The driver's door opened, and some guy stepped out. His appearance didn't matter because he was an unimportant side characters whose only scene was this one. "Alright, got your ride ready, my man, and I got some crew together."

On cue, some of the doors opened and some big guys in ski masks poked their heads out. They waved. Percy waved back. The big guys got back inside.

"So…why did you need this big thing?" the Delivery Guy asked.

 _Gonna go to Hell and tell the Devil to give me a lightning bolt._

"What?"

"A road trip," Annabeth answered. "Through Detroit, St. Louis, Juarez, and Oakland. Not necessarily in that order."

"Oh. We looking to clean house or something? Some idiot gangbangers?"

" _We_ will be leaving now. _You_ will be returning to whatever job it is you do here."

Delivery Guy nodded. "Got'cha. Have fun and don't die. You guys are great for business."

"Hey!" Hedge yelled. "What's the specs on this baby?"

"Don't worry about it! Just know it's paid for, has great insurance, and even better mileage!"

With that, Delivery Guy jogged away and vanished around a corner.

The satyr did not look pleased at the fact that he was denied his gungasm, but there was nothing he could do about it. At least, not with the Delivery Guy.

The trio mounted up, and the inside was rather spectacular. There was a station with a masked guy monitoring radar, and a guy monitoring communications. There were two devices like submarine periscopes being manned, no doubt the internal turrets for the top-mounted chain guns. There was a small jail cell, a few weapons lockers, and stations with body armor hanging on racks. There was also a lounge area with heated and massaging leather seats, coolers with various drinks from water to coke to alcohol, and a TV.

And there was also a driver's seat and passenger seat.

Both occupied by more guys in masks.

"Where to?" the driver asked in a distinct Hispanic accent.

"Las Angeles, California," Annabeth said.

The driver turned around in his seat, eyes wide in the eyeholes of his mask.

"I didn't stutter."

" _Madre de dios_ , hope Boss Lady won't need us for anything very soon, but that's one hell of a paycheck. Okay. Let's go."

"Hey! What weapons does this baby have?" Hedge yelled at the driver.

"Don't worry about it!"

The satyr grumbled.

Percy piled on the couch and flipped on the TV, and then started flipping through channels until he found Boomerang. _Scooby Doo_ was on, and it was the perfect timing, because one of the classic chase scenes started up with the Gang driving through Hong Kong followed by a couple of dudes in white zombie masks.

 _I know~ a place where I'm goin'_

 _And the place where I'm goin's just around the bend_

The Hummer shot away with a great roar of it engine, heading for the Interstate. From Manhattan to Las Angeles was going to be about a two-day trip, possibly longer, possibly shorter, depending on so many factors, like monster attacks, being pulled over because they were driving a tank, refueling, lunch breaks, potty breaks, and knowing Percy, it was a distinct possibility he would get bored of the road and want to go explore something.

Of course, there was also the possibility of this thing being destroyed, and the quest would continue on foot until another mode of transportation could be found, and there was no calculating how long any instances like that would take.

So, where they had two weeks until the summer solstice, that did not mean they had time to waste.

However, for the time being, Annabeth had literally nothing better to do than sit down with Percy and watch _Scooby Doo_. As soon as her butt hit the leather, the boy crawled into her lap and got comfy, resting his head in her cleavage, utilizing her natural pillows. Annabeth wrapped her arms around his waist and planted a kiss to his crown. He pressed himself against her and then relaxed.

Annabeth turned her attention to the show. She only sparingly knew of the mystery comedy. She saw some merchandise in stores from time to time when she needed to steal something, and once stole some _Scooby Doo_ underwear for Luke because he had wet all his other ones, but she had never personally watched an episode.

The only TV she had watched while growing up were history and geography channels, never any children's programs.

As she watched the campy fun that was 1970s _Scooby Doo_ , she found herself bemused by it. The physics being displayed by the Mystery Machine as it was chased by the men in the white masks, and the slapstick comedy that was featured escaped her understanding. However, this was a show designed to captivate children and bring an amused smile to people's lips.

Forget logic and understanding.

The important thing was that it was enough to keep Percy riveted so he wasn't touching everything, trying to figure out what any of the buttons did.

For all Annabeth knew, there was a self-destruct button in here somewhere, set to instantly detonate upon being pressed.

Speaking of touching things…

"Hedge!" Annabeth shouted when she saw the satyr eyeing the weapons locker. "Get you furry butt over here and watch _Scooby Doo_."

The grizzled mystical being grumbled and trudged over, and threw his weight onto the leather seat with a pout and his arms crossed. Like a petulant child, he made conscious effort to not look at what he was told to watch, but a couple of sideways glances had him locked in eventually.

The episode ended, and Percy started flipping through channels again to avoid the commercial break, and ended up on the history channel, which was playing a documentary about Adolf Hitler. Percy paused long enough to tilt his head back and mouth to Annabeth.

 _He's my cousin._

Much like when she realized that the children of Demeter were also Percy's cousins, Annabeth felt her whole world perspective shift when she came to realize that Percy was, in fact, the cousin of Hitler, which also made him the cousins of Churchill and Stalin, sons of Zeus and Hades, respectively, which also made Percy the half-brother of Eisenhower, the son of Poseidon.

Which also meant that Churchill was Annabeth's half-uncle, and she was the second cousin to the other three commanders.

Now that Annabeth stopped and thought about it, just about every half-blood was in some way related to the infamous mass murderers.

His words said, Percy changed the channel again, and ended up on an episode of _Johnny Test_. It was a new show, having just come out a few months ago, and he had never seen it before, so he decided to give it a shot.

He never saw the end of the episode, because he quickly got bored of the gimmicks and characters, finding them a lot less fun than Shaggy and Scooby.

Which prompted him to flip back to Boomerang, where it was another _Scooby Doo_ , only this time it was one of the straight-to-video movies. More specifically, _Scooby Doo on Zombie Island_.

Hedge fell asleep midway through, while Percy was wide-eyed the whole time, completely mesmerized and in full child mode, as he brought out his guns whenever the zombies showed up and pantomimed shooting them. Annabeth thanked her mother that he didn't actually shoot the TV.

As for herself, the daughter of Athena found herself engaged by the darker tone and grittier atmosphere created by the metal soundtrack and the undead. At the end of the movie, she resolved to go buy (steal) a copy for herself.

Anyway, is was past noon when the movie ended, and Percy's tummy rumbled, making him look expectantly up at Annabeth.

She got the message.

"Hey! Lunchtime! Find the nearest civilized place and pull over."

The driver looked into the rearview with a bewildered expression under his mask, his reflection clear. Annabeth just gave him a pointed glare, her grey eyes darkening intensely to the point they became black like storm clouds. The driver nodded hastily and went back to driving.

Annabeth could understand the sentiment. These guys were all probably ex-military, and having nothing else to do, turned to mercenary work, or they were all contractors. Either way, these guys were about business, and their business was getting to Las Angeles as fast as they could without wrecking or causing a major scene. Being told to pull over because it was "lunchtime" was insulting in a way.

They were trained killers on the job, driving a machine of death, not a bunch of bus drivers ferrying an elementary field trip.

But still, they were hired to do as they were told, and what they were told was to find a place to eat.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They found a Jack in the Box.

It was really a strange sight for everyone inside the joint, seeing a bunch of beefy men in ski masks ordering enough food to feed a daycare, a teenage girl and a grown man wearing matching orange t-shirts, and a little girl dressed highly inappropriately for one her age, all of them also ordering food, with the older girl ordering for the younger one.

However, the gravest cause of concern was that the little girl had a pair of guns holstered about her chest, and no one could say for certain whether they were real or just toys. Either scenario was met with poor reception, because if those were real guns, then a minor had just brought lethal weaponry into a civilian area, and a place of business, without so much as an open-carry permit, and if they were fake guns, then shame on the girl's guardians, apparently the two in the orange, for letting her bring toy guns out into public like she was going.

Whatever was going through anyone's mind didn't really matter, because the first people to leave, right as the massive party of individuals put some tables together and sat down, called 911 as they were getting on the road to report the suspicious seen. They also reported the Hummer stretch limo, because there was no way that thing was legal on American streets.

Nervousness ran high at Jack in the Box, and the workers did their jobs with apprehension. But, they did their jobs as they were paid, and the manager said he'd already called the authorities.

So, when the entourage was in the middle of their meal, the Boys in Blue showed up, eight of them.

And Percy saw them.

His eyes alit with fury, fury at what they had tried to do to him years ago, fury that they weren't the good men his mother had told him they were, fury that they were liars. In his fury, things became slow. He shot out of his seat and drew his guns. The officers flinched, reaching for their own weapons, but it was much too late for them. Percy's fingers practically spazzed, and eight bullets went flying, the accompanying cracks of fire sounding like a short, automatic burst to those processing in real time.

With terrifying accuracy, each bullet struck home, right between each officer's eyes.

They all collapsed to the ground, blood spraying from the gaping holes in their foreheads, the walls behind them decorated with squishy, gooey red bits.

The screaming started not a second later, and ended a second after it started when Annabeth snapped her fingers and caused the Mist to warp and twist, bending perceptions and altering reality. She stood and looked to the mercenaries, who were just sitting their stunned at the suddenness of the recent development.

"All of you get to limo and get it going," the blonde said coolly. They left to do as told, and Annabeth looked to Hedge, "Are we going to have problems?"

"Not from me. Less polluting cupcakes there are, the better it is for nature."

"Well said." Annabeth then turned to the youngest. "Percy."

He looked at her defiantly, daring her to reem him or lecture him.

"No shooting police in public unless they're shooting at us. Understood?"

Percy blinked at the admonishing, and then nodded once.

"Good boy. Grab anything you want and let's go."

He grabbed one of the big cups, toddled over to the fountain, poured out the cup and refilled it with Dr. Pepper, making Annabeth sigh. The diuretic would make him have to pee later, and the caffeine would wreak havoc in his bowels, meaning he'd have to poop, too. There wasn't a bathroom in the limo, either, meaning they'd have to stop again so Percy could go.

Annabeth silently bemoaned that nature of children, reminded of all the times Luke insisted on a bedtime soda even though he knew it'd make him wet in the night.

Percy toddled back to the blonde, grinning. He offered up the Styrofoam cup, which was bigger than his head. Annabeth rolled her eyes and took a sip before handing it back.

"C'mon. We need to get back on the road."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

On a full stomach, Percy got sleepy and took a nap. He rested his head in Annabeth's lap, and his body on the couch. She decided to nap herself, and rested her head back against the leather. Unfortunately, their nap was not a peaceful one.

…

Oh, it wasn't a dream.

It was blips on the radar.

"Hey, boss! We got incoming!" Radar Guy yelled to Driver Guy.

"What is it?"

"By the looks of them, I'd say Street Dragoons."

"How many?"

"Six."

"Oh. Nothing to worry about then." Driver Guy turned to Passenger Guy. "Get the weapons online and get ready to kick ass."

"Roger, roger."

The limo was cruising down the interstate at 80 miles an hour, and shooting off from the entrance ramp about a mile behind were six cars straight out of _Death Race_. All the vehicles looked like clunky slabs of metal built more for destruction than for transportation. Armor plating, guns and missiles, no license plates, and horrible paintjobs. Looked like whoever ordered the artwork had stupid teens with zero graffiti skills do the job.

They zoomed through traffic, cutting off cars and sometimes clipping them in their haste after the limo.

"Yeah, that's right, assholes, a little closer…" Passenger Guy muttered as he held a control panel in his hands.

The rear-facing gun on top of the limo swiveled to face the closest incoming car and let loose a burst of fire. A stream of heated metal spat was spat at the armored windshield, the armor-piercing bullets leaving great dents in the thick sheet of steel. The car fell back, and two more came forward. From their backs shot four rockets.

They went up, up, up, shooting several hundred feet in the air before the secondary fuel ignited, and they came shooting down. Several flares were spewed from the limo, and the rockets diverted. The sky above the highway lit up, shrapnel peppering the mortals. Cars swerved and people died.

There were still six cars coming after the Hummer limo.

"Alright, you asswipes…" Passenger Guy said. "Time to meet my ex-wives…"

He hit a button on his control panel, and a compartment at the back of the limo popped open, revealing a series of five small holes. From those holes, five little missiles were fired point-blank. Two of them struck true, and their targets erupted in massive balls of fire and metal. The three hit and bounced away like toys.

"Goddammit," Passenger Guy grumbled. "I swear, whoever makes those things needs to do a better job."

"At least two of them went off correctly," Driver Guy said.

"Two out of five is bullshit."

Meanwhile, back on the road, the four cars that had been near the explosion had been rattled, almost flipped, even, but they remained true to their assignment and collectively sped up. Two of them hit their nitrous and shot forward, zooming past the limo…which was dumb because Driver Guy jerked the wheel at just the right moment, and sent the car coming up on the left skipping and rolling, littering the highway with broken parts and scrap metal.

The car had so much momentum going for it that it skipped all the way on the other side of the interstate, and then it exploded.

Driver Guy laughed.

Of course, there were three other cars left to deal with, but these weren't professionals. If anything, they were twenty-year-old crack addicts that had spent the past hour hotboxing themselves before being told to go after the big Hummer limo on the road.

Anyway, the two behind started firing their big guns, the bullets creating sparks against the War Machine's aft. The armor held strong against the onslaught. The one in front dropped a set of road spikes, to which the War Machine rolled right over like they weren't even there, the tires having been coated in a special solution that made them greatly resistant to something like road spikes.

"Hey, give me a broadside," Passenger Guy barked.

Driver Guy nodded, and he did the impossible: with some jerks of the wheel and the skilled application of the breaks, Driver Guy had the tires screeching against the asphalt as he _drifted_ the big motherfucker. This, of course, had the effect of drastically reducing speed, and the three cars took the opportunity.

Their plan was to push the War Machine from behind into the car in front, and use that car as the fulcrum point to flip the War Machine. What the two behind did not expect to ever happen, however, was to slam full-force into a repulsive magnetic field. Not only did their fronts completely crumple, instantly, they went shooting off the interstate to God-knows-where. The front car had enough reaction to slam their gas pedal and accelerate away fast enough to not get trampled.

Driver Guy grinned under his ski mask. "Oh, I got something special for you, rotten crotch…"

He hit a button on the dashboard that had a picture of a wedge on it. Immediately, the front of the limo started to reconfigure, or more precisely, panels and parts slid out and came together to form what was simply best described as a ramp attached to the front of the limo.

With a cackle, Driver Guy floored it, and the big engine roared and pushed the War Machine forward at over a hundred miles an hour. The limo road right up the last car's tailpipe, and its speed, versus the car's speed, resulted in the car flying up the ramp at a backwards angle, catching a gratuitous amount of air time.

The chain guns unloaded, blowing hundreds of holes into the car's unprotected underside.

When the car slammed back into the highway, it exploded beautifully.

Hedge through his arms into the air like a referee declaring touchdown. "TEN POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR!"

The crew of the War Machine exchanged fist bumps and high-fives, while Annabeth sat on the couch, eyes wide and bloodshot. With his head in her lap, Percy had managed to sleep through the entire thing. However, the commotion of the celebration caused him to stir and crack his eyes open.

"Go back to sleep, Percy," Annabeth said. "Everything's fine."

His eyes remained open for a little bit, before they steadily shut, and he drifted off again. Then he shot straight up with enough speed to generate a tailwind strong enough to tussle Annabeth's hair. He looked her in the eye with all the seriousness of a five-star general about to give out orders.

 _I need to poop._

Annabeth closed her eyes and blew a heavy amount of air from her nose.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Well, the closest civilized place happened to be St. Louis, which put "civilized" to the test, since the Home of the Arch was close to the top on the list of America's most crime-ridden cities.

Anyway, a place was found for Percy to conduct his business in, and a guy tried to rape him because of his appearance, but Percy just used the toilet water to drown the guy. After that, he did not want to get back on the War Machine, because it was boring in there, and he wanted to go explore the big shopping bag handle over the water.

Against her better judgement, Annabeth allowed this and brought Hedge along for numbers. The Crew was hardly pleased to be told to wait so Percy could go look at a national monument, but they were getting paid for their services, so they bit their tongues and ran diagnostics.

However, there always came a point when the bullshit outweighed the payment, and suddenly it just wasn't worth it anymore….

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The big shopping handle was not what Percy expected. Sure, the view was nice, he guessed, but it was so boring up here.

Meanwhile, while Percy was at a window sighing at making the mistake to come up here, Annabeth was feeling so wistful and nostalgic it was almost bringing her to tears. Once upon a time, it had been her supreme dream to be an architect, to build monuments that would last for centuries to come, be remembered as the greatest to ever enter the industry, even against all those boys…but life happened.

She ran away and learned to scavenge and steal. Her mind became occupied with survival, it became filled with techniques and tactics for getting by, day by day. Suddenly, her dreams became about waking up the next morning, her dreams became her not dying or starving, her dreams became about finding somewhere to bathe and relieve herself in a sanitary manner.

And then she met Thalia, and months after that, Luke.

He was such a sweet child, always trying to be happy and optimistic about the situation. His cerebral palsy manifested as limp in his right leg, making it hard to walk and harder to run. It had been Luke's fear that his limp would slow them down too much, and they'd be eaten by whatever it was that chasing them, or handcuffed by the police, and it was his deepest fear that he would wake up and find he had been left alone and dropped like dead weight.

It was the stress of those fears and the stress of the burden he was convinced he was and the stress of the lifestyle and the stress of his home environment—basically, it was too much stress that caused his bedwetting, and his bedwetting caused him even more stress because it was humiliating and embarrassing and shameful, especially because he always slept curled up in either Thalia and Annabeth's arms, and he literally peed all over them.

But still, he tried to remain as happy and lively as possible…and now he was dead.

" _One day, when we find a good place to live, we're all gonna make it. I'm gonna be the best runner in the world, Thalia's going to be the greatest guitar player ever, and you're going to build the awesomest things that everyone from everywhere will come and see! We're all gonna make it!"_

Annabeth had to put an arm down at a window sill to keep herself steady. This time, there were tears, a few errant betrayals of emotion that escaped down her reddening face.

A smaller hand gently rested on top of hers, and Annabeth saw Percy there, looking concerned. The look on his face was so much like Luke's that the stout daughter of Athena broke, falling to a knee and wrapping the boy in a hug as she buried her face in the crook of her neck.

The rangers and the lone family that were there watched on awkwardly, but there was this dog that just had to go into a fit of barking, and the fat lady that was his owner just sighed.

"Alright, sonny, if you insist. Go wild."

The dog's barking deepened, and the dog grew to gigantic proportions. The mortals panicked and fled down the elevator. Now free of obstacles, Hedge brandished his baseball bat. "Bring it, cupcake!"

He charged the chimera, Echidna laughing behind the monster.

Percy's eyes turned so dark they almost became black. He was _pissed_. He was having a moment with Annabeth; he didn't know why she had started crying, but his mother had taught to be there when someone cried, because it meant they needed help, and so when he saw that Annabeth needed help, he went to go as he was taught…only for _this_ bitch and _this_ bitch's bitch to start making a commotion.

Percy reluctantly spun out of Annabeth's hug, drawing his pistols in a motion fluid as a stream. With textbook accuracy, he peppered the chimera and Echidna with the magic bullets, riddling them with holes. The monster quickly dissolved into dust, while its mother was pushed against the wall with a wail as her body was torn apart. Percy moved his arms and twisted his wrists, bringing his guns up sideways in front of his face. He twisted his wrists back to normal and slowly brought his guns down.

The slides eventually clicked back and remained in place.

Smoke curled from the exposed barrels.

Echidna was an unrecognizable mess of golden blood splattered against the wall. So many holes had been shot into her torso that her arms fell from her shoulders, accompanied by the sounds of ripping skin. The goddess fell to her knees with a loud slop as the blood puddle splashed around her, and the movement was enough to send her head tearing forward like her arms had done, the skin, muscle, and tendons ripping as they were not secure enough to hold together.

Hedge nudged the mess that used to be Echidna with his baseball bat. It didn't respond beyond turning into dust. "Damn, kid. Brutal."

Percy ejected the empty magazines and replaced them with loaded ones, putting the empty ones in his boots.

Before all this had happened, Annabeth had snapped her fingers and covered him in Mist, so that it looked like his shorts and shirt were longer, his hair shorter, and his guns hidden, so that there wouldn't be any problems regarding unlawful carry and indecent exposure. That point was moot now.

"It's going to be Hades down there," the satyr said.

"It's okay," Annabeth said, standing and wiping her eyes. "I'll take care of it."

"You sure you can handle that many mortals?"

"Easily."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

True to her word, Annabeth, despite her previous emotional breakdown, was able to warp several hundred minds around the Mist and make it to where nothing had happened besides a fire drill. The problem arose when they got back to the War Machine.

"Bad news, my friends," Driver Guy said. "Are systems picked up some freaky shit, and the Boss Lady tells us that when freaky shit happens, it doesn't matter where we are, or who we're with, or what we're doing, we're to drop it all and get back to home ASAP. So, it's been fun with you guys, but freaky shit is where we draw the line. Bye."

The wheels spun and the Hummer limo shot away.

Hedge blinked. "So that just happened. Now what?"

"Train," Annabeth answered.

And that's how the quest eventually ended up in Chicago.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _ **The War Machine will be returning, so don't worry.**_

 _ **Just who is this "Boss Lady"? Probably has something to do with Puerto Rico.**_

 _ **Now, college: I fucking hate it. It's stupid. I've got three classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, some mandatory freshman class that teaches about how to learn, a three-hour Algebra 1 lecture class, and a writing class.**_

 _ **A**_ _ **writing**_ _ **class.**_

 _ **The first one is just dumb, the second doesn't make sense, because the teacher basically told us all the work was online, and during class he would explain the videos and the homework, and because he has ADD and OCD and the class is three hours long, he would be breaking into his life's story often, and I'm like "Dude, fuck your life's story. I'm here to learn algebra because it's mandatory for my degree plan, and if all the work is online and I've completed the whole first section, why the fuck am I here?"**_

 _ **And the last class…forget how pointless it is for me, let's talk about how I'm surrounded by teenagers and people in their early twenties, who are still struggling to pronounce words, stutter, and read in a droll monotone, like they're still in elementary school. Never mind the fact that our first assignment was to write a six-sentence introduction about ourselves, and then comment on two other people's intros (all online, of course), and what I found was that grown-fucking-adults still cannot capitalize their I's, space words after commas, or refrain from making run-on sentences.**_

 _ **Which brings me to the point of this rant: I hate college, and I want out. I get out by making money, and to do that, I need to land an awesome publishing deal, and to land a publishing deal, I need to finish my novel, and saying that brings me to the ultimate point:**_

 _ **I don't know what's coming next.**_

 _ **I haven't decided on another chapter of this, binging my book (I started it mid-March of 2018 and worked on it till mid-May of the same year, so about six weeks, and worked on it five days of those weeks, so thirty days, and of those thirty days I only worked on it for about an hour and a half, so, if my math is right, I cranked out a 52,000 monster in 45 hours, about two days—so, based on that data, it shouldn't be too long before I finish as my goal was around 100k), writing some**_ **Transcendence** _ **, getting back on**_ **Blood War** _ **, or trying to split my time between my book and my fics, which will makes updates painfully slow.**_

 _ **Idk, I'll let y'all know when I make a decision.**_

 _ **In the meantime, Fav, Follow, and Review please!**_


	13. Send Me on My Way

_Send Me on My Way_

 _ **Alright. I cranked out 8k for my novel and kept on top of all my schoolwork, so now it's time for a little bit more fanfiction.**_

 _ **For those that wanted more of this, congratulations. For those that wanted more**_ **Transcendence** _ **or**_ **Blood War** _ **, be patient. Those are next. I want to finish the Lightning Thief arc before moving on.**_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't own PJO or BL

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

On the train heading for Denver, Hedge, Annabeth, and Percy sat in one of the many cabins about the car, having paid for their tickets with Mist. Annabeth's favorite trick was to use that nifty little reality-warping magic to bend rules and get her way, whatever that way may be. Honestly, she didn't understand why more demigods didn't use the Mist like she did; she didn't understand why more demigods didn't use the Mist to bring about peace and order in America, using the Mist to put themselves in positions of great political power, and further using the Mist to bend the minds of others into compliance so that laws would be passed unobstructed.

Hell, forget that part. Just use the Mist and wrap it around America's collective mind and bring every man, woman, and child under the singular influence of one. It was a great way to get rid of crime and poverty, and Annabeth would not be swayed otherwise.

As she looked at her reflection in the window, she resolved herself to go about doing something like that, using the Mist on a grand scale to temper aggression and pride, and bolster compassion and humility.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Hm?" Annabeth looked to Hedge, mentally prepared to defend her position.

"I asked what's wrong with you," Hedge said. "You're acting funny around the kid. You're not usually this…warm."

Annabeth blinked, brain short-circuiting as she was caught flat-footed. As she rebooted, she recalled her previous behavior and compared it to her current. Hedge's remark about warmth was not unfounded, as even amongst her siblings she was regarded as chilly. Not mean or unapproachable, just cold and projecting an aura of unwelcomeness. _Brooding_ was probably the best way to describe her, but was her brooding state not without merit?

Given to a father that didn't want her; pushed aside for a woman that wasn't her mother and boys that weren't her brothers—literally, as no DNA had been shared between Frederick and Athena, meaning that Bobby and Matthew were complete biological aliens to Annabeth. At ten, she took to the streets by choice, which was cause for demerits in regards to sympathy and pity points, but what she then endured was cause for gold stars.

Starvation, dehydration, disease, the odd monster coming to eat her, various groups of various peoples of various ages and genders coming to do what they wanted to her, whether be rape her, kidnap her and sell her into prostitution, or slavery, or to some sick freak so that they could cut her up and mutilate her, like in _Hostel_. Having to scavenge through the garbage, praying that she was about to eat wasn't going to kill her. Getting sick with whatever disease, and having to suffer through it, whether it just be fever and nausea, or more drastic things like vomiting, shortness of breath, diarrhea, faintness, coughing up blood, and more.

Annabeth could tell you from experience that there was no worse physical feeling than having a high fever, trembling in the cold, laying in a puddle of your own sick, the sensation of your insides churning and twisting, your brain feeling like melting cheese, your nose stopped up, your ears blocked, your mouth dry, and to top it all off, watery waste pooled in your pants, running down the backs of your legs, and leaking over the waistline to stain your back and shirt

And then she met Thalia, and then Luke, and grew to love them both very much. Then Luke died, and Thalia was turned into a fucking tree.

And she had to wake up everyday henceforth and see that towering pine looming over the whole camp, the camp filled with happy, smiling, plucky kids with no comprehension of pain and suffering.

So, one could make a very strong argument of her reasons for being a brooding loner.

And then Percy popped into her life, or more like she popped into his, and as she reflected on their interactions with each other in the past three-ish days, she could recall quite clearly a change in her behavior. She smiled more, touched more, and she could feel that aura around her, so cold and unwelcoming, had become more lukewarm and more…"meh" for lack of a better word.

Something stirred against her legs, and Annabeth refocused on the here and now. Percy had decided to nap again and was using her lap as his pillow. A bit of his hair had gotten in his mouth and he was spitting it out in his sleep. Annabeth gently curled her fingers through Percy's hair, a fond smile on her face.

"The little one here is bringing out buried emotions," the blonde finally answered Hedge's question. "Percy reminds me of Luke."

"Luke…I remember him. Cerebral palsy making him limp really bad, high-stress environment made him urinate at night. I don't think you ever clarified: was Luke your son or your little brother?"

"Neither, genetically speaking. Spiritually…it varied. Sometimes he was like a little brother, others like a son. Depended on the mood everyone was in, the atmosphere, the situation, and how he was acting."

Hedge hummed, the look on his face making it clear that he didn't understand.

Annabeth grinned knowingly at the satyr's plight. "In time, when there's someone close to you, a lot younger than you, you might get it."

Hedge grunted. "We'll see, cupcake. Now what's wrong with the kid? He didn't strike me as the… _mushy_ type."

"His mother was raped and murdered in front of him," Annabeth said neutrally. "Things like that leave deep psychological scars, some of which don't heal over. Let me ask you: if your mother was killed before you at a young age, wouldn't you want someone there to fill the sudden void? A proxy, or a substitute? Not necessarily someone to take your mother's full place, but someone close enough to where you feel a little bit better?"

"I guess. Psychology isn't my field of study."

"Doesn't have to be," Annabeth shrugged. "If you can understand a smoker fresh off the cigarette wanting something to soothe his nerves and occupy himself, then you can understand a hurting child wanting the comfort of his mother."

"Ah, so the kid's seeing you as his new mommy."

"Something like that."

"Consider the way he's dressed, I figured that bitch was his mommy."

"You think _she_ was a mother-figure?"

"Apparently one good enough to where the kid decided to dress like her."

"…good enough point. I suppose I'm more maternal than Revy is, and Percy subconsciously likes that."

Hedge snorted. "Subconsciously my hairy ass. If he was any smaller, he'd proudly be telling you about how he successfully went potty _and_ didn't make a mess everywhere."

Annabeth's lips quirked upward. "And then I'd have to check his underwear to make sure he wiped good enough."

"Heh, probably. You humans are strange. Your children stranger."

The daughter of Athena shrugged. "Such is our nature."

A dark look suddenly crossed Hedge's face. "Nature, bah! If there's going to be any talk about nature, it'll be about how you humans are destroying it."

"And about how you nature spirits are sitting on your asses, bitching about it being destroyed," Annabeth countered flatly.

Hedge grabbed his bat. "What'd you say, cupcake?" he growled.

Annabeth grabbed her knife. "You heard me."

Neither one of them had noticed how the sudden hostile air had awoken Percy, but his conscious state soon became clear when Hedge stood from the bench. Faster than the blink of an eye, there was the sound of whipping, of metal cleaving through air, the crack of bone setting, the clap of flesh suddenly stopping. Hedge and Annabeth both got very still, and the satyr found himself on the business end of Russian Tokarev TT-30 pistol.

And further down from the barrel was a single, crack open green eye.

Percy was not playing anymore.

Hedge grumbled. "I'm going to go walk the train and make sure there aren't any monsters on board."

With that, he left.

Percy holstered his gun and snuggled in to Annabeth. She put her knife away and started to play with his hair, leaning back and closing her own eyes. Within moments, they were both sound asleep together.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The end of line was Denver, which was met with mixed emotions. Hedge thought the city stank far too much like a skunk's ass. Annabeth was more occupied with brainstorming transportation methods. Percy was where the mixture came in, because where he was glad to be off the cramped and boring train that had nothing fun to do, he also found it comforting to take a nap with Annabeth.

He couldn't take a nap with Annabeth on the train when they weren't on the stupid train.

"Now what?" Hedge asked.

Annabeth inhaled. "We find a car wash. We can use the sprayer to get in touch with Chiron to give him a status update, and if the Fates are kind, a set of wheels will roll up and we can borrow them."

Percy's tummy added its own opinion. He looked up at Annabeth. _I'm hungry. Can we eat somewhere? There's going to be lots of cars at wherever we go._

Annabeth raised a brow. "And what if we go to a trashcan?"

 _Why would we go to trashcan?_

"Desperation."

 _But we're not desperate…I think._

"Exactly. Which is why you are going to wait till we're done at the carwash."

Percy pouted at not immediately getting his way of going to eat somewhere, and flickering iota of a thought flashed across his mind of giving both Hedge and Annabeth the finger and going to find someplace for himself, but he let that flicker die out. He liked these two, and besides:

He could go a little while longer without food.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The nearest carwash was easily found, and when Annabeth asked if Percy knew what an Iris Message was and how it worked, and he said yes—because he really did know—she nodded and put him on lookout duty while Hedge held the sprayer.

A car quickly rolled up, and Percy's jaw practically unhinged at how stupid it was.

The boy didn't know the model, much less the make, as he wasn't a car person, but the vehicle's body was painted a reflective purple, its grill and wheels a shiny gold, white tiger print on the top of the car, a hood ornament of a middle finger, and a license plate that Percy eventually deciphered as saying "GNGSTA."

Never mind the base system shaking the bricks of the carwash and making Percy's ear hurt.

The guy who got out of the car was even harder on the eyes, as it was a lanky white man wearing very baggy pants that were sagging about his thighs, an overly large football jersey, and the man had a scraggly beard and mustache, a white fedora-esque hat with a leopard print band around it, and numerous gold chains around his neck as well as numerous gold watches around his wrists.

There was also the cloud of smoke that had erupted from the open door and was continuing to pour out into the open air, the smell of which was making Percy gag.

The guy caught sight of the son of Poseidon and mistook him for a potential buyer.

"Wassup, mah niggah? If yo lookin' fo a blunt, I got jus' whatcho need. Jus' show me da green and I'll show you da green, wuz yo say?"

 _You're an embarrassment to pimps and drug dealers._

"Wha?"

Percy crushed the pimp's nutsack with a well-placed kick, and there was so much power behind said kick that the pimp's eyeballs literally popped out of his skull and he died of shock, cornea dangling from his sockets.

Percy shivered. Then he grabbed one of the watches, noted its impressive weight for its size, and hurled it into the car's dashboard with all the speed of an MLB fastball, completely destroying the sound system and making the speakers and radio shut off. The silence was music to Percy's ears.

Annabeth and Hedge both poked their heads around the corner, surveyed the damage, drew conclusions based on what they saw, and decided Percy had done the world a great favor, perhaps one even greater than bringing back the Master Bolt and averting World War Three.

"Alright. Let's go eat," Annabeth said.

Percy jumped, legs curled and a fist pumped high, a happy look on his face.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The diner was just as easily found as the carwash. It was getting late, and the evening crowd was starting to trickle in. Annabeth surveyed the establishment, locating exits, taking note of the floorplan and layout, and analyzing the clientele for the evening. Average families, a couple of loners, a few old people—no one of true noteworthiness. However, in a booth there at the very back of the diner, was an odd trio.

Two of them had their backs turned, but Annabeth could still the muscles on the one on the left, and his white hair, tipped in black. A girl was next to him, with sun-kissed skin, bordering between Hispanic and surfer, and she had shiny black hair. The one on the opposite side of the two with their backs to her was the most interesting, for they (as Annabeth couldn't discern gender) were cosplaying as a member of the Akatsuki, from the anime _Naruto_. The person had the collar buttoned all the way up, hiding most of their face, but Annabeth could that the individual had gone the extra mile with their cosplay and put in Sharingan contacts.

Annabeth caught the person's eye and nodded in simple acknowledgement of their existence. They nodded back.

Percy, Hedge, and the blonde all took seats at a booth close to the door, with Annabeth getting the window, her back to those in the corner, Percy scooching in next to her, leaving Hedge to take the opposite bench. A waitress approached, a young woman working this as either part time for high school or part time for college, looking a little worn down, probably having been here most of the day and was nearing the end of her people fuse.

Still, that didn't stop her from being all smiles and friendliness.

"And what will we be having to drink this evening?"

"I'll have a water," Hedge said shortly.

Annabeth put a hand on Percy's head. "He'll also be having a water, and I'll have a black coffee, no cream or sugar. Just the coffee."

"Two waters and a straight black coffee…" the waitress muttered as she scribbled down on her notepad. "Alright. I'll be right back."

She went away and didn't return before an angry red light came glaring in through the windows, an impossibly deep rumble accompanying, rattling silverware, chairs, tables, and drinks. Before anyone could start screaming about an earthquake, the rumble and the light both shut off, and a moment later, someone entered.

That someone was wearing black jeans and a red muscle shirt, a black duster trailing behind him. His face was scarred, his black hair cut military style, dark sunglasses over his eyes. His boots thudded against the floor, and his grin was one of pure malice.

He trudged right up to the booth our protagonists were sitting on, and practically squashed Hedge against the wall.

"Well, if it ain't Poseidon's little bitch and Athena's brain turd," Ares said. He rested his arm across the back of the bench, and mussed Hedge's hat. "And a goat."

The satyr bleated angrily. "You want to say that again?"

"Coach!" Annabeth barked. "Control yourself. Lord Ares' natural aura provokes violence and conflict. Be calm and composed."

"Calm and composed, eh?" the war god grinned. "And how calm and composed were you when Little Luke's insides got splattered all over the ground?"

"Not very," Annabeth said evenly. "Did you come here just to make conversation with us, or was there something of importance that you needed to do here?"

"Neither. I came here to be helpful."

"How so, my lord?"

Ares scratched his cheek, a taunting grin on his face.

He was the god here, the most powerful one, and he knew it. He had full and total control over everything that was happening right now, and he knew that no one around could challenge that authority. And it pleased him, made him drunk on the rush of power that it brought to him, and if there was one thing Ares was all about, it was about power, authority, and weight.

And throwing it around.

"Call me 'daddy' and I'll answer."

Percy's guns were out in a snap, his face one of ice. Ares just grinned. "Careful, bitch. There's no one around for hundred of miles in every direction that'll be able to stop me from bending your little ass over this table and making you moan my name."

Annabeth calmly put her arm over Percy's extended ones, and gently pushed down, making him power his weapons.

"And nothing like that will come to pass, because we're all going to play nice from here on out. Now, how are you here to help us, Daddy?"

"Mmm, I like that. From this point forward, you will be referring to me as Daddy, and that one as Princess Percy."

The son of Poseidon glowered, while Annabeth just smiled thinly, unimpressed. "As you wish, Daddy. Princess Percy said he had to go to the bathroom, so would you please allow him to go, Daddy?"

"Hmm, well, since you asked so nicely, I shall allow it."

Annabeth gave Percy a very pointed look, and he just glowered back. The point became like a searing hot blade, and the boy caved with a huff. Percy slid out of the booth and went for the bathroom, but on his way there, Ares reached out and grabbed a generous handful of his ass, freely groping and squeezing him like he was a waitress whore at a sleezy dive. Percy's face burned red, both in anger and embarrassment, and there was no stopping him this time.

"Percy, no-!"

The guns were out, and twin dots of red glowed brightly from behind Ares' sunglasses. The god grinned, and with a jut of his chin, Percy's arms were jerked straight up just as he fired, and the bullets went ripping through the ceiling.

The war god tutted. "You just attacked an Olympian god. As such, I'm allowed to punish you however I see fit."

Ares rose from the booth, and ran his hands over Percy's slim and toned body like he was examining a trophy. It was clear to all just what he intended, but no one could move, all of their bodies locked in place by an otherworldly force. Ares slid his hands down to cup Percy's ass once again.

"This is mine now, and so are _these_."

The son of Zeus leaned down to take Percy's lips, but the boy was not wholly immobile. He spat at Ares, his balled up saliva impacting the scarred cheek. The war god just grinned, his tongue rolling out of his mouth to lick away the saliva.

"You've got some fight in you. I like that."

" _Then you're going to love me."_

That was all the warning Ares got before what felt like a dump truck hit him in the face at terminal velocity, and he was sent rocketing out of the diner with such speed that a cone of air formed around him, his tailwind being so strong that it shredded everything in his wake, including the diner, the people in the diner, and everything for the next ten thousand feet.

Annabeth openly gaped at the extended fist, and she gaped even more as she followed that fist to the rest of the body, the rest of the body being black as the sky at midnight, female in shape, and with many oddities, including a bladed tail, four tubes poking from the back, and tendrils in place of air. Annabeth didn't know what this creature was, but she was afraid of it, perhaps even more so than of spiders.

But those feelings of fear were washed away when the creature leaned over and gently planted a kiss so full of love and maternity on Annabeth's forehead, that she almost let out a pitiful whine when the contact ended. Never, ever in her life had she experienced a feeling of love like that, so strong and powerful.

She wanted to follow the creature, to get answers, but when she focused back in, the creature was gone, nowhere to be seen in the destroyed diner.

"She stole the first strike," Annabeth heard someone mutter, impress and jealousy in his deep voice. She looked over and saw a big specimen of a man trudge past, wearing the garb of a warrior king. "I hate it when someone besides me gets the first strike."

He disappeared out the wreckage, and then there was someone else.

The one in the cloak.

He slowly turned his head, and Annabeth knew terror once again when she beheld those scarlet eyes glowing in the darkness of the shadows. It was like looking at twin red giants in the depths of the cold void of space, so massive and powerful that you couldn't help but feel insignificant and worthless, like all you ever accomplished in life was meaningless, and all you ever did, or would do, had no value.

Looking into those eyes was like realizing the true emptiness of the human existence.

Those suns got brighter and brighter, before they became so luminous that Annabeth couldn't look at them anymore, and she had to close her eyes lest she be blinded.

She felt tugging on her sleeve, and cracked her eyes open to behold a scary sight: the diner in perfect condition and Ares gone.

Percy was the one to have tugged her sleeve, and he was looking worried. _Are you okay?_

"I'm fine. What happened?"

 _That jerk wants us to go get his shield from a waterpark. He'll get us a ride west if we do._

Annabeth blinked. She recalled that conversation, Ares talking about being on a date that got interrupted, and in his haste to leave he had left his favorite shield on a water ride at Waterland, an abandoned water park a little ways down the street from here. In return for retrieving his shield, he had promised transportation west.

She remembered all this, and yet it also felt off. But the more she dwelled on those off feelings, the more they dissipated until she was sure of what had happened.

"Well, you heard the god. Let's go get that shield."

Hedge grunted. "I hate shields. Only cupcakes use shields."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As the trio made their way on foot to the abandoned water park, they were unaware of the three watchers above.

"If I'm supposed to be War, and she's supposed to be Plague, and you're supposed to be Death, who is Famine?"

"Undecided," Death said, exhaling a cloud of smoke from the cigarette in his mouth. "There's symbolism to all of and our names, but Famine doesn't fit anyone. Virgil might qualify, as he has engaged in fasting with Muslims before, and Tobi is a possibility, as he was never fed anything but bleach and rat poison as a child, and cannot die by starvation, but Kraken also qualifies, as they need to feed on humans and other Ghouls to live. Essentially, whoever Famine will be, they'll have to have some kind of eating situation."

War hummed.

' _Famine is our constant variant,'_ Plague spoke up. _'Famine will be the one that has no specific person to fill the position, and so is open to our choice based on who best fits the situation.'_

War hummed again.

There was a pained groan behind the Three Horsemen.

"Yes, about that one: what exactly were you planning on doing with him?"

Plague let out a low, raspy hiss. _'I'll think of something.'_

"Careful," Death warned in a low tone. "We are not here to alter destiny. Do not cripple him."

' _All it takes is some water and he's healed,'_ Plague argued.

"As I said: _don't cripple him_. Nor let your association of Annabeth and Gunslinger, with your Annabeth and Arcadia, cloud your judgement. Again."

' _Whatever.'_

Plague stalked away to have her way with the war god.

War stood next to Death. "Ironic. Arguably she's the most level-headed of all of us, and she's the one acting like a teenager, acting in accordance with her emotions instead of her brain."

"Let her do as she pleases. She's became a mother of three when she was thirteen and a goddess when she was fourteen. Things like that rob one of their experiences in life."

War hummed. "And you'd know all about robbed experiences, wouldn't you?"

Death remained silent.

"That's what I thought," War grinned. "I believe we've taken enough of the limelight for now."

"Agreed."

In a swirl of water, all Three vanished.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _ **Sorry. I just couldn't resist the opportunity to bring them in. It's a guilty pleasure of mine. However, on a real note, this clears up just who Famine is in accordance to my Four Horsemen. Famine is the interchangeable character based on who I want.**_

 _ **Anyway, I finally finished this chapter and here it is. You can tell I enjoy a little bit of Ares bashing in my fics, with him being killed in**_ **Backup Plan** _ **, being one-shotted in**_ **Ghoul** _ **, manhandled by Jesus in**_ **Transcendence** _ **, and then manhandled by Asteria in this one. Also keep in mind that Asteria hates Ares because it's the war god's fault Annabeth's mind went all screwy in**_ **Xenomorphic** _ **.**_

 _ **Next chapter should be the wrapping-up of the Lightning Thief arc, and that's going to bring a massive question:**_

 _ **What's going to happen to Annabeth?**_

 _ **Think about it after you Fav, Follow, and Review!**_


	14. On the Road Again

_On the Road Again_

 _ **Very sorry for this massive Delay, but I lost the flash drive that contained all three years' worth of chapters, including this chapter, and, like an idiot, I didn't save any of the docs to a second flash drive or to my computer, meaning that when I say I lost all my work, I**_ _ **lost**_ _ **all my work.**_

 _ **However, I'm smart, and I know how to solve problems like this. I won't tell you my method, for I fear it'll cause mass chaos throughout the Internet, but through painstaking effort I did recover all my work…technically speaking. It's all a bunch of jumbled messes that require extensive editing, but I got all my chapters back.**_

 _ **They're just really ugly now.**_

 _ **Anyway. So sorry for how long it's been.**_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't own PJO or BL

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

There was something about abandoned places that Percy liked. He couldn't explain it with words, but places like this were…soothing…to him. Calming. Being in an abandoned place brought a peace to the boy that only being on the _Black Lagoon_ in the middle of the sea could match. It was places like this that made Percy reflect on things, especially the creations of man.

This waterpark had once been a thriving hotspot for fun and family. Teen boys would come here and try to impress the girls, and teen girls would come here to admire the boys. Moms and dads would bring their kids for a day of swimming in the sun. Elderly couples would come to enjoy the lazy river and enjoy spending their waning days with their spouses.

But now, as you looked at the park, you couldn't help but feel nostalgic.

The showing metal was all rusted. Grass was growing out of the concrete. Moss occupied the slides. The bright paints were dull, cracked, and chipping away. The fence surrounding the park was meant to stop trespassers, but even with the barbed wire on top of the fence, there were still shocks of graffiti about the park.

It was a great testament to the accomplishments of man, and the unyielding power of nature.

Human kind can clear out the forests and the trees and the grasslands to make way for parking lots and malls and buildings and all manner of things, but eventually, as enough time passes, the green would come back and reclaim what belonged to it.

To Percy, this park was a great reminder that man's time was limited. Whether they arrived from a space rock, or evolved from a fish or a monkey, or were put here by God or some other deity, their time here would come to an end, either by fire, smog, disease, or bullets, and nature would rebuild everything destroyed, and reclaim everything taken.

In sunken and wrecked ships, or any ship really, Percy could see into the history surrounding the vessel. Here at this waterpark, the same was not true, but still…he could hear faint laughter, and he could feel the old happiness that still clung to the old attractions.

Back to reality, however, the graffiti about the park indicated that there were ways in which vandals were getting inside to have their fun, meaning gaps in the fence somewhere, or other methods to get over the fence.

Annabeth, Percy, and Hedge collectively felt they did not have the time to go searching for holes in miles of fence line, so they went with an easier method: each of them vaulted over seven feet of twisted metal strips. It was easy, given the demigods' divine physiology and the satyr's own magical anatomy.

Now inside, they had a shield to look for.

"Where should we start?" Hedge grunted. "This place isn't small."

"No," Annabeth agreed. "Ares said he was on a date, and in a place like this, a date usually involves a love ride, and when it comes to waterparks, the love ride is usually in a dark tunnel with water. Percy, can you sense any large gatherings of water nearby?"

Percy nodded and pointed in the direction he felt the water.

Moments later, the trio arrived at the Thrill Ride O' Love. It was an empty bowl that led into a dark tunnel, with several Cupid statues lining the bowl. At the bottom of the bowl was a single boat, a gleaming shield nestled within.

Percy took a step forward, and had his ponytail yanked, which in turn yanked him backward. He glowered at Annabeth.

For her part, she ignored the venomous gaze being aimed at her, and walked over to on of the statues to examine it. Percy and Hedge waited for her to do her examination, which didn't take long given her ADHD mind making it possible for her to process every detail she saw with breathtaking speed. When she was done, she returned to the boys.

"What's the situation?" Hedge asked.

"A trap set by Hephaestus. The statues have his symbol on them, and they're positioned in a pattern. I suspect the shield is boobytrapped and setting off the trap will trigger the statues. The arrows are most likely connected to strands of celestial bronze, and all of them combined will form a net, effectively capturing whoever goes down there and messes with the shield."

"Plan of action?"

"You and I will go down there and do a further investigation, and Percy—you'll stay up here and provide lookout. Shoot at anything suspicious."

Percy nodded, a serious look on his face which really just made him look adorable.

Hedge and Annabeth leapt down and examined the boat, with the blonde finding what she was looking for.

"Here. A wire pulled taught. The slightest touch will probably snap it."

"Ideas?"

"I'll go back up and, on my signal, you grab the shield and run like hell."

"An excellent plan. What's the Backup Plan in case things go sideways?"

"If applicable, run down the tunnel as fast as you can and we'll meet up on the other side."

"If not applicable?"

"We'll improvise."

"Got it."

Annabeth rejoined Percy at the lip of the bowl and hollered out "Now!"

Hedge grabbed the shield and left a trail of fire in his wake. From there, really strange things happened. The Cupids didn't come to life and start firing arrows as one would expect, but instead a cement truck fell from somewhere above and smashed grill-first into the boat.

And it wasn't the only one.

Hedge vaulted the bowl, and three took off sprinting as cement trucks came cascading from above, all while the loudspeakers of the park were blaring the same two lines over and over again:

 _It's raining men!_

 _Hallelujah!_

Percy failed to correlate falling cement trucks to raining men, but he didn't have time to dwell on it, because if he got killed by a falling cement truck, Revy would go on a world-wide crusade against all cement trucks. The thought of Revy slo-mo walking away from a mountain of gathered machinery, all of it going up in smoke and flames, was so comical to Percy that he almost stumbled as a laugh came upon him.

However, Annabeth saw the break in his step out of the corner of her eye, and yanked his arm almost out of its socket.

The three of them vaulted the fence, even Hedge laden with the shield, and they all avoided the falling dangers.

Percy giggled.

"That was something," Hedge panted.

"Yeah," Annabeth exhaled. "Let's go get that ride West."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ares tossed the shield into the air, and it came down as a Kevlar vest, one that he slung over his shoulder. The god of war looked pale, a bead of sweat traveling down his temple. He seemed nervous—skittish, even.

He snapped his fingers, and the back of a truck unlocked. On the side of the truck was the label _Kindness International_. "There's your ride. And take this."

Ares threw Percy a blue nylon bag, none too gently. His part completed, the god revved his motorcycle, spun around and gunned away in a wheelie, spraying the trio with dirt. Percy had the sense to shield his face with the bag, and Annabeth her face with her arms. Hedge was licking himself clean.

"Let me see that," the blonde instructed Percy.

He grinned cheekily and held it out so it could be seen better.

Annabeth rolled her eyes and snagged it away from him. She unzipped it and rummaged inside, inspecting the contents. "Some snacks…a few changes of clothes…and—oh. That's lovely."

"What is?" the satyr.

"Ares provided Percy with some underwear."

Annabeth pulled out a package of Disney princess panties, the word "Percy" scribbled across the front in big red marker. The son of Poseidon frowned.

"I think they're a good look for you, honestly," Annabeth said. "The blue of Cinderella really compliments your hair, and the green of Ariel brings out your eyes. They're even in your size, too."

Percy frowned deeper. Then he pulled out a gun and took aim at the package. Before he could shoot a hole through Jasmine's face, Hedge snagged the package out of Annabeth's hand.

"That would have been a terrible waste of good food!" The satyr took a big bite out of plastic and cotton alike. "Gods, oo umahs ur ser raful."

"Don't speak with your mouth full, coach. You'll teach the little one bad habits."

Percy pouted at being referred to as the "little one." He wasn't _that_ little.

Hedge swallowed. "I said you humans are so wasteful. You were about to shoot a hole through a perfectly good pair of edible panties."

Annabeth raised a brow. "Those are not edible panties."

"Not by humans anyway."

Hedge took another bite, relieving Aurora of her head.

The daughter of Athena shook her head. "Let's just get on with this."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hedge was about to blow a gasket, and so was Percy.

Inside the truck, not only did it reek of animal musk, waste, heat, and what was probably a disease or two, the animals were quite clearly not being treated with kindness. The zebra had a steak in front of it, the lion a bowl of grass, and the antelope neither, with all of them having an empty water bowl. The zebra had gum stuck in its mane, the lion was haggard and dirty, and the antelope had balloon string about its antlers.

Percy was currently in telepathic contact with the zebra, as he was a son of the Father of Horses, and the zebra was close enough to the horse family to count as horse.

 _My lord, they plan on using me for bestiality porn, and Mr. White, the lion, for illegal gladiator fights, and Mrs. Prongs the antelope for food! Please help us._

Percy nodded. _Got'cha._

He relayed the message to Annabeth, who then verbally relayed that message to Hedge because the satyr had yet to learn how to speak Mouth. When Annabeth was done, the good coach turned purple.

"THAT FUCKING DOES IT!"

The satyr's hand went right through the back of the trailer, right through the back of the cabin, and clamped tightly around the throat of one unsuspecting member of Kindness International. The truck swerved, and Annabeth acted. Her own arms ripped right through the trailer and cabin, only she gripped the steering wheel and the gearshift, and set the truck to neutral.

A risky maneuver at their speed, but they got lucky and instead of blowing the transmission, she set the truck to be unable to accelerate.

Long story short, those of Kindness Internal had their necks either snapped or their throats crushed, and the truck came to a complete stop without sustaining any compromising damage.

 _What about the bodies?_ Percy asked.

Annabeth looked at Hedge. "What are we going to do about the bodies?"

"Throw them in a ditch and let the buzzards have them."

"My plan exactly."

And so Annabeth and Hedge tossed the bodies into the ditch, and Hedge cast a piece of very mean nature magic upon the corpses that would ensure their vanishing into the stomachs of scavenger birds. After that, Percy freed the animals, and Hedge cast another spell, Satyr's Sanctuary, blessing the animals by way of providing food and water until they find a safe place to live.

 _What was the other spell called?_

Annabeth translated, and Hedge answered, "Satyr's Roadkill Buffet."

Percy snickered, then he stopped. _Couldn't you have cast Satyr's Sanctuary on us so that we got to Las Angeles alright?_

Post-translation, Hedge said, "No. Nature magic only works on animals."

 _We're animals._

"Not that kind of animal, cupcake."

 _Is there a spell to get rid of trash, like litter and landfills?_

After Annabeth translated, Hedge opened his mouth to answer…and then he shut his mouth. Then he opened it again and shut it. He wanted to say no, but truth be told, he didn't know. It made sense that there was a spell to destroy trash and litter, as pollution like that was something nature spirits actively rallied against, but in his hundred years of living, for the life of him, he couldn't think of a trash-destroying spell even though it made perfect sense that there would be one.

"If there is, I don't know about it."

 _Are you going to make a spell?_

"If I have to. Probably based on death metal. Which will sound horrible on reed pipes."

Percy once again snickered at the thought of magic, and then he asked, _Can I do magic?_

"Most likely. As a son of Poseidon, you've got a hefty amount of power in you. Power is needed to perform magic. If you try to cast too powerful a spell with too little the power, you—"

"Blow up," Annabeth finished. She could still distinctly recall Grover trying to perform such a spell, and he went up in flames.

Granted, he took the monsters with him, but still.

Up in flames. Horrible way to die.

Hedge nodded. "You blow up."

 _Cool. Can I try some spells?_

"Later," Annabeth yanked his ponytail. "Right now, we have a long way to go, and a short time to get there."

The daughter of Athena took the wheel, Hedge the seat closest to the door, and Percy nestled in between them. With nothing better to do, and since he was kinda tired after the fun run through the waterpark, the boy closed his eyes and took a catnap.

And he dreamed, because why not?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Percy found himself standing on top of a large pond, and he was mesmerized by everything around him.

The water was a clear, crystal blue, so clean and pure he could see the sandy bottom below, and make out some rocks and pebbles. There was forest surrounding the pond, but there was a small bit of emerald grass, soft to the eye, between the two. The bark of the trees was a healthy brown, the foliage being a just as healthy green, all full and luscious. Snow-capped mountains towered in the distance, standing tall and majestic as they surveyed all the land. The sky above was rich with oxygen, dyed a wonderful deep blue that gently faded into lighter shades as you looked to the horizon. The air here was pure and unpolluted with even a hint of any kind of emission.

"It's wonderful, isn't it?"

When one heard a voice behind them, typically they flinched and whipped around, jumping out of their skin with a shriek, reaching for weapons if they had any or some were nearby. Percy experienced none of these things. Instead, at hearing the voice, he felt nothing but calm.

He even felt comforted.

Percy turned around and saw a woman in an old-style dress, the color of fresh soil, a veil over her face. Percy noted how even though her eyes were closed, she still had a melancholy look on her face, one of wistfulness, nostalgia, and sadness. Looking deeper, Percy thought he saw bitterness and resentment as well.

"There was a time in which all the world looked like this. Beautiful. Vibrant. Clean. Alive." The woman's mouth didn't move, but her voice was clear. "The early men that lived here respected their home. They only took what they needed and gave back what they took. Men today take more than they need and give back either too little or nothing at all. I will not allow this much longer, my child."

The woman was firm in her claim, and Percy swallowed, for he could feel inside of just how much _business_ this woman meant.

"I want you to know, Percy, that I love you very much."

Then, with all of his questions unanswered, he fell through the pond.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The gunslinging boy did have experience with dreams like this. It was how he learned of the secret world around him. The story of the Minotaur, the Labyrinth, the Titans, the various gods and monsters, and more. Usually though, there was one weird instance, and then he woke up. This time, after the talk with the mystery woman, he did not wake up, and instead found himself in a cold, dark place, a place that he recognized as an oceanic shelf.

Percy could feel the condensed sand under his bare feet, and he could see the inky black that just dropped straight down. As a child of the sea, he had no fear of it. No creature could scare him, not a shark, not a squid, not a whale, not even the mythological monsters of the sea could bring fear to him. But here, Percy knew this was not just the sea.

This was, somehow yet somehow not, his father's domain.

Percy swallowed, swearing that he could feel something down there looking up at him.

Then the water warmed considerably, brightening quickly, changing from this cold place to a location of welcoming and light. Above, the rays of the sun could be seen, the dazzling light refracting through waves dancing across the tan bottom.

Percy heard a distant neigh, and he blinked when a woman who looked so much like his mother he almost shot her for the insult of _not_ being his mother came riding in from the distance on a giant seahorse.

"Percy Jackson," she greeted warmly. "I am a naiad, one of many in your father's service. He wants you to know that you have made him very proud, and he is very pleased with your progress, and he has the utmost confidence in your ability to advert war. I've also been instructed to instruct you to go to the beach of Santa Monica, and to wade into the water. There is something you need there, and it will be given to you when you arrive. Fare the well, and safe travels, Prince of the Sea."

The naiad made her giant seahorse spin around and…gallop…away.

The spray of bubbles obscured Percy's vision and tickled him relentlessly.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

His eyes popped wide open.

"You pissed yourself, cupcake."

Percy's eyes shifted to his crotch, and he brought a hand there. He was dry.

"Ha! Got'cha."

Percy glowered at the satyr, which only made Hedge chortle.

"Have a nice nap?" Annabeth asked.

Percy nodded in the affirmative, and what followed was an interesting situation of having to tell Annabeth to go to Santa Monica while she was trying to drive with her eyes on the road. The communication was managed eventually, and the quest was soon heading for the beach.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _ **I'm calling it here because after so many days of working on getting all my chapters back, and having to rewrite this from scratch, I'm moving on to another story.**_

 **Transcendence** _ **, most likely.**_

 _ **Things that happened this chapter that are worthy of note: the waterpark trap involved raining cement trucks, not a bronze net. Ares is scared of something. Hedge ate a package of girl's underwear. Percy had a dream about a woman, a dark place somewhere in the ocean, and got the instruction to go to Santa Monica.**_

 _ **Poll on profile about what happens to Annabeth. Choices are:**_

 _ **She dies.**_

 _ **She goes with Percy to Roanapur.**_

 _ **Or she stays at Camp Half-Blood.**_

 _ **Poll ends when the next chapter of whatever story is up, which could be anywhere from a few days, to three weeks.**_

 _ **Fav, Follow, and Review please!**_


	15. Vodka

_Vodka_

 _ **As promised, we return to**_ **Roanapur's Sea Devil** _ **after nine months of stagnation due to work on other projects.**_

 _ **I really hope you guys are still around and haven't left yet.**_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't own PJO or BL

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _Previously:_

 _Percy Jackson, an older Annabeth Chase, and Coach Gleeson Hedge had commandeered the Kindness International van on their way to Los Angeles after killing the smugglers and setting the animals free with a blessing to find safe refuge, courtesy of Hedge. Percy napped in the cabin and had a dream of an asleep woman in an earth-colored dress that showed him the beauty of the world before modern man, and told Percy about how much she loved him. After that dream, Percy had another, this one at the bottom of the ocean, with a Nereid telling him to go to Santa Monica. He then woke up, and relayed the latter dream to Annabeth._

 _That is where we pick up…_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The three of them noticed the supreme lack of monsters on this quest. Well, Annabeth and Hedge noticed it more than Percy, and both of them knew why.

In canon, Little Percy's demigodly scent had gotten so potent that Sally had been forced to marry Gabe Ugliano to mask that scent. This was accomplished by Gabe's reportedly "pungent human odor," something that was generated by the man's baseness, such as his love for beer, gambling, and money, his cruelty and lack of compassion, misogyny, etc. His human stink had been so powerful that even days after leaving the man's presence, Grover could still smell Gabe on Percy.

Gunslinger Percy had spent years in an environment that was Gabe multiplied by a thousand, doubled by a factor of twenty, and risen to an exponent of a million. Compared to the human stink of Roanapur, Gabe was a shop of flowers and candles.

That city was comprised entirely of scum, the absolute worst the world had to offer. There were conmen, rapists, pimps, murderers, serial killers, dishonorably discharged servicemen from around the globe, drug dealers, hustlers, liars, human traffickers, thieves, psychopaths, sociopaths, assassins, gangbangers, the mafia, the cartel, the yakuza, the mob, the triads, torturers, loan sharks, racketeers, and more. There was weed, heroin, cocaine, meth, LSD, Rohypnol, alcohol, cigars, cigarettes, prostitutes, slaves, guns, bullets, missiles, rockets, grenades, human organs, animal organs, illegal fish markets, black markets, and a yet-extensive list of other things.

To put it simply, if Hell truly was empty, that was because every demon therein was chilling at Roanapur.

And Percy had spent the past four years living, training, killing, and couriering around the city, with a Russian war veteran turned mafia boss as an aunt, ex-Spetsnaz soldiers for trainers, and a smoking, beer-drinking, gun-toting, scantily-clad, foul-mouthed Revy as his closest person.

To put it simply: in terms of magical scent-blocking, Percy absolutely _reeked_.

Honestly, there was so much _human_ on him that he could take a waltz through Tartarus and not single monster would ever know he was there.

He could probably stand right next to Polybotes, and the giant wouldn't ever smell the sea on the boy.

For that reason, with Percy's massively strong mortal stink radiating off of him like Chernobyl, blanketing and smothering Annabeth and Hedge, drowning their scents entirely, it was no wonder that there weren't any monsters attacking: they literally couldn't smell them.

All the monsters could smell was human—particularly _dank_ human, but human nonetheless—and they had no interest in humans.

So, from where they were in Colorado all the way to Santa Monica in California, they had zero interruptions beyond having to get some more gas, something Annabeth accomplished with a snap of her fingers to warp the Mist and get the cashier inside the gas station to allow for thirty bucks worth of fuel for the van.

If it got the kid fired, then oh well. Wasn't Annabeth's problem.

Keeping Percy occupied during that time wasn't too hard. He just dismantled and rebuilt his guns, trying to set a new record for himself, and Coach Hedge and Annabeth were chockfull of stories on Greek and Roman mythology, so they had plenty of entertaining things for Percy to listen to.

The trip to Santa Monica was sweet and filled with information.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Go to the water, go under, and keep going," Annabeth advised. "Your dad wanted you here, he'll have something set up for you."

Percy nodded and walked into the surf before diving under the waves.

"Great," Hedge said. "Now what?"

"We wait."

"For how long?"

"As long as it takes for Percy to complete his business with his dad. If you're looking for something to do, we're on a beach in the summer. There's bound to be trash all over the place for you to eat, and cupcakes for you to smash."

Hedge nodded. "There's bound to be some cupcakes that need smashing."

He hefted his bat over his shoulder and went on the hunt for any disrespectful people on the beach that just threw their trash into the sand or into the water instead of a trashcan.

Annabeth contented herself to wait for Percy to get back, and mentally readied herself for dealing with any boys that tried their luck with her. Hopefully it was just sleezy assholes that sidled up with intentions that ended with their dick inside her—much more fun to turn them down, because it lead to some ball-busting—because the nervous ones that worked up the courage to actually come and talk to her deserved at least a kiss for their efforts, and Annabeth always felt just a little guilty having to turn those few brave souls down, because she knew it wrecked their self-confidence and esteem.

"Um, h-hi…" a nervous voice came from Annabeth's left, and she mentally sighed at the sight of the lanky young man with the glasses and belly flab.

' _Goddammit.'_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Percy had mixed feelings about this, a meeting with his dad. He knew his dad loved him. Spending four years in Roanapur, doing all kinds of jobs on the high seas, in the water, Percy would often feel random current of warm water go past him, like a quick hug, and he knew that was his dad sending his regards. However, Percy had always had moments of conflict when that happened too, because it was Poseidon's negligence, inability, fault—whatever you wanted to call it—that Percy's mom had died.

It was Poseidon that had sired Percy, then left Sally, a woman bordering on poverty, to raise him all by herself, without so much as a food stamp or WIC card to at least cover the groceries. Then, as the years wore on, Poseidon had provided no further aid and no protection against the increasing supernatural events that were happening around Percy, like when he was three and he had snapped a snake's neck after it had slithered into his cot during naptime, or the one-eyed men in the coats that kept showing up (though those might have been cyclopes under Poseidon's command, and not wild ones looking to eat the boy), fish in aquariums going nuts when he was around, etc.

As such, before something terrible could happen, Sally had been forced to do something terrible and marry a terrible example of a man, one that had eventually been her rapist and murderer after two years of emotional and mental abuse, hoarding and stealing money from their shared marriage bank account, and just being an all-around asshole.

All grievances that could laid at Poseidon's feet for not doing anything else about it besides throwing Percy into the mix.

Now, with such thoughts in mind, you might be wondering why Percy wasn't out for blood against his father, and that was because he had brought these sentiments to all the mentors in his life: Dutch, Benny, Revy, Sister Yolanda of the Rip-Off Church, Mr. Chang of the Triads, the various soldiers of Hotel Moscow, and of course, Aunt Balalaika, and they had all given their input and counsel on the subject.

Percy wanted to meet his dad. He wanted to talk with him, and get answers to his questions:

Did you really love Mom?

Do you really love me?

Did you let Mom die?

Why did you abandon us?

Deeper into the water Percy went, and he detected a presence that made him grin broadly.

' _Julie!'_

The thirty-foot long Great White came cruising into view. She had gotten bigger than the last time Percy had seen her, which had been less than two weeks ago during the submarine job with the Neo-Nazis. Instead of being thirty feet, now she looked like thirty-three. Which was really saying something since that had been off the coast of Thailand and here they were in central California.

Sometimes Percy wondered if Julie was actually a Great White and not a Megalodon, but it hardly mattered.

The humongous shark swam past, curling so that she could rub her head against Percy. Shark skin was rough, like sandpaper, due to the thosuands of dermal denticles that lines their bodies, but Percy was unaffected by having a gigantic sander nuzzling him. To him, it tickled.

He giggled against the shark, and grabbed hold of her dorsal fin, a structure that at her size was nearly as big as himself, and held on for the ride as Julie took him to where he needed to be taken.

The Great White eventually came to an underwater cliff, the blue water dropping straight down into an abyss, and Percy sensed this was it. He let go of Julie's dorsal fin and the shark swam off, being gentle with her tail as she brushed it against him during her exit.

Percy peered down into the darkness, wondering what was about to happen, his heart thumping in his chest at the prospect of finally confronting his dad. In retrospect, he should've expected what happened next, and perhaps he did know, but had held out hope for otherwise.

No, Poseidon did not come swimming out of the depths in a massive conch shell chariot pulled by harnessed dolphins, killer whales, and/or other large aquatic species.

Instead, it was the Nereid from St. Louis, riding upon her giant seahorse. She pulled the creature's reigns, brining it to a stop before Percy. He crossed his arms and glared pointedly, his hands close to his guns.

The Nereid smiled apologetically. "I am sorry, young master, but My Lord…there are laws that must be obeyed, rules that need to be followed. Him being here would be a grave violation, and bring about catastrophic consequences for you, him, and those you love."

Percy could _understand_ that, coming from a place overrun by organized crime, but that didn't mean he _liked_ it, and the look on his face showed it.

The Nereid's own face showed sympathy, but she squared her shoulders and got serious. "Lord Poseidon has sent me with a message for his child, er…do you identify as a boy or a girl? Your father has made it clear that he loves you very much either way, but with your style of dress, it's been a source of confusion and he would like to know."

 _Why?_ Percy mouthed.

"Because, depending on your chosen gender, that will make you _Prince_ Perseus, or Prin _cess_ Perseus."

Percy blinked, unfamiliar with the practices of seafolk.

He also didn't think that was how gender worked, but his standard education had been substituted with lessons on Chinese, Russian, Italian, Spanish, hand-to-hand combat, gun maintenance, marksmanship, blade-handling, military tactics, black market negotiation, maritime law, navigation, wilderness survival, explosives, and a bunch of other things that twelve-year-olds shouldn't know.

Maybe it was some newly discovered biological thing? Or just something that he hadn't gotten to in science class yet?

 _I'm a boy,_ Percy informed.

The Nereid nodded, perfectly fine with going from there and not having to dive into socio-politics.

"Very well then. Prince Perseus, I come bringing a message from your father, Poseidon, God of the Seas and King of Atlantis: 'I love you, and here are these magic pearls. You'll need them in case your uncle is testy. Simply crush them under heal, and everything will be taken care of.' End message."

The Nereid handed Percy a trio of large pearls.

"You only get one use, so be careful."

Percy accepted the pearls and nodded. The Nereid cracked the reigns and the seahorse swam away. Julie was quick to return, and Percy grabbed onto her dorsal fin, fitting the pearls down inside the pocket of his mutilated shorts.

' _Hey, wanna scare everyone at the beach?'_

Julie gave no kind of verbal response, but Percy could feel her eagerness through the telepathic bond he had with all sea life.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After turning down three boys, Annabeth was starting to feel like crap. Even offering words of advice and encouragement to those brave few to try and get their spirits up didn't bring any comfort to the blonde. Luckily though, she hadn't dealt with any dickwads yet, just young men who worked up enough bravery to come and say hi.

"Hello~, bay-beh~," a smug voice called.

Annabeth's mouth set.

There was a danger to being a demigoddess and turning people down. You never knew who the gods were, and so saying the wrong thing to someone could be grounds for horrible happenings. Annabeth heard lots of stories around camp about girls and boys and nature spirits who hadn't given some random stranger their name, and ended up being turned into something unnatural because it turned out they were denying a god or goddess.

Annabeth turned her head and saw exactly what she imagined: a native boy, tan skin and blonde hair, a cut, defined body with respectable arms and legs, and easily visible pecs and six-pack abs. If it wasn't for his bright blue eyes, he could've passed as Annabeth's cousin, given their blonde curls and skin tone.

This teen exuded not confidence, but arrogance. He was good with the ladies and he knew it. He made a game out of stringing girls along before moving to the next floozie he saw, enjoying the thrill of breaking a heart and then getting it on with another, only to rinse and repeat.

He was the type of scumbag boy that made the Hunters of Artemis justified, and deserved whatever punishment Artemis and her adopted daughtered decided to met out.

Well, he was just a punk kid, so maybe there were some punishments that were extreme.

"You look like the kind of babe that's never been with a real man before," he wagged his brows. "I can fix that, babe."

A retort popped into Annabeth's brain, and nearly out of her mouth, but she restrained herself. She couldn't sense any kind of divinity to the boy, but that didn't mean anything; this could easily be a god in disguise, or at least, a demigod that was good at suppressing his aura.

"Sorry," Annabeth declined. "I'm not sure you'd want to be my date."

"What makes you say that, babe?"

Annabeth shrugged, and she was about to go with one of her favorite lies, tried, tested, and proven to be a turn off for every boy that had tried to woo her (thus far), when the worst cry you could ever hear at the beach was sounded.

"SHARK! SHARK! There's a shark in the water!"

 _Nothing_ grabbed attention better than being at the beach when the word "shark" was yelled aloud. It was a cry met with two different reactions: panicked terror and annoyance. However, in today's case, panicked terror reigned supreme at the sight of the _humongous_ dorsal fin that was gliding through the water.

The beach's alarms were triggered, the sirens blaring over the waves, causing a veritable stampede as those in the water made as mad a dash as they could against the resistance against Poseidon's domain. Screaming towered over the sound of the siren.

Annabeth pinched the bridge of her nose, instinctively knowing that Percy was behind this.

"Sh-Shark!?" the teen shrieked like a little girl. He turned a fled, but Annabeth caught the sight of liquid running down his leg. She smirked, blowing a bit of air from her nose.

"Think the kid's behind this?" Hedge asked, trotting up from whatever he had been doing—collecting trash apparently, given the trash bags slung over his shoulder.

" _Of course_ he's behind this. I'm not a shark expert, but even I can tell just by looking at that fin down to its tail that shark out there is massive. Besides, look."

Hedge looked just in time to see the shark slip underwater, causing a few very tense seconds to pass, before the shark went rocketing clean out of the water, something—or someone, rather—riding along its pectoral fin as if it were a rollercoaster.

"I _love_ this kid!"

The shark slammed back into the water with a mighty splash and disappeared.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Percy returned from his trip, all smiles and giggles, he was met with a high-five and praise from Hedge, and hands-on-hips with a stern look from Annabeth.

"No more causing mass chaos and hysteria with your fish friends without my permission, got it?"

Percy put a hand to his chin in thought, and then cheerily gave Annabeth the finger, making Hedge guffaw. The blonde narrowed her eyes, and Percy started to faulter, before regaining focus and gave her the _other_ finger as well, making Annabeth face down two tall men.

She growled and stepped forward, reaching Percy to give his ponytail a good yank, before going lower to give butt a hard slap, eliciting a squawk.

"Got. It?"

Percy stuck his tongue out, but gave a thumbs-up. He reached into his pocket and brought out the pearls.

"And these are for…?"

 _Underworld. Quick escape. One use only._

Annabeth took a pearl for herself, and informed Hedge, who also grabbed a pearl.

Their business in Santa Monica completed, they got back to the Kindness International van—just because Hedge and Annabeth didn't feel like trying to hotwire a car—and hit the road for Valencia Boulevard, Los Angeles.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"This is it?" Hedge asked with a wrinkled nose. "DOA Recording Studios?"

"Dead On Arrival," Annabeth said. "I guess Lord Hades is a fan of poetic irony."

"Hn," Hedge grunted.

Percy, for his part, had become abnormally reserve. Annabeth settled a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he looked into her eyes. In that moment, they knew exactly what the other was thinking, and Annabeth was telling him not to get his hopes up. It made his eyes water.

He wiped them before Hedge could see, but the satyr already had.

"Let's go to Hell, cupcakes," he announced merrily, and promptly hopped out of the van, leading the way to the front doors while whistling a happy little tune.

Percy didn't want to be happy. He wanted to see his mom.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The prophecy given by the Oracle contained nothing worthwhile besides instructions to go to the Underworld entrance in DOA Recording Studios. From there, the Oracle had literally said to make it up as they went along.

Right now, they were operating on the idea that Hades had been behind the theft of the Master Bolt, and they were going down into the Underworld to get it back. Really, the plan didn't make much sense, because if Hades really did have the Bolt, then what, exactly, could two demigods and a satyr do?

They entered the front lobby, and the man in the Italian suit at the reception desk looked up, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. "Ah, you three! Lord Hades has been expecting you."

Annabeth came to a dead halt. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing to fear. My Lord has given his word on the Styx that he won't do anything to harm the three of you. He only wants to talk about some things."

"And we should believe you because…?"

"Because you're in my domain and if I had wanted to do anything nasty to you three, I would've already done so."

"He's got a fair point," Hedge muttered, noting all the dead people in the lobby.

Charon lead the quest to the elevator, down into the Underworld, and across the Styx to the beaches of Erebus, where he deposited them and a few dozen other souls on the black sand. There was a clear path up to a pavilion, where hundred of souls were gathered.

"The Judgement Pavilion," Annabeth surmised. "It's where the souls of the dead are judged by a panel of three appointed by Hades to be sorted either into the Fields of Punishment, the Asphodel Fields, or Elysium."

"Souls of mortals, anyway," Hedge said. "We satyrs get to be reincarnated instantly upon death."

"True." Annabeth's eyes narrowed at the Pavilion. "Looks like we're going to have go through to get to Hades' palace."

She took one step forward, and she, Percy, and Hedge promptly fell through the sand as if it made of clouds. After a brief fall through darkness, they all landed on a hard floor. When their eyes cleared, they realized they in a throne room, and the king was in the house.

Percy had seen three gods in his mythological career so far, and those were Dionysus, who chose to take the form of a fat man with scruffy hair, Echidna, who chose to look like the crazy cat lady only with a chihuahua, and now Hades, who actually chose to look like a god.

Percy's uncle was clocking in at a few inches over ten feet, wearing a full-body robe of midnight black, the faces of the agonized souls of the damned occasionally popping up and fading away along the fabric. Hades had gone for a pale complexion, a sharp jaw, a strong nose, narrow, dark eyes, and pitch black hair, combed straight over the sides of his head.

"Nephew," Hades greeted.

Percy waved. _Hi!_

"I do not have the Master Bolt."

 _Oh. Who does?_

"Most likely the same person who has my Helm of Darkness."

 _Your what?_

"Zeus' Bolt is his symbol of power, your father's Trident is his symbol, and my Helm is my symbol. It was also stolen on the night of the Theft."

 _Why didn't you tell anyone?_

"Appearances and politics. Can't afford to look weak before my rivals. However, I'm detecting a familiar power coming from that bag of yours…"

Hades made no movements or gestures, but the bag slipped from Percy's shoulders and sailed through the air. The bag unzipped and Hades telekinetically pulled something out: a bronze cylinder with golden caps on the ends.

"The Master Bolt," Annabeth said. "In the bag given to us by Ares."

"Ares," Hades mused. "Possessing the Master Bolt, and most likely my Helm as well, sending you down here with the former. A simple strategy to start a war, but quite effective. However, my domain is swamped enough already, and the last thing I need is another monsoon of souls, so…"

The bolt was put back in the bag, and the bag went flying back to Percy.

"Go, nephew. I imagine that Ares will be waiting for you topside."

Percy pulled out his pearl, Annabeth and Hedge doing the same. Percy had the idea to just throw it down at his foot, which worked, and white mist began to encircle him. The other two followed suit, and soon they were all shrouded in a bubble that was steadily starting to rise.

And then Hades said:

"Sally and Luke say hello."

The bubbles hit the ceiling and went through, making everything go dark.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They arrived on the Santa Monica beach, now deserted and devoid of everyone, sans for Ares leaning on his bike, examining the classic robber ski-mask in his hand.

"Hey, kids," the god greeted, "you weren't supposed to-"

Annabeth wasn't listening. She was in anger—what Hades had said, intentionally saying it right after there was nothing she could do about anything else, teasing her about Luke, and teasing Percy about his mother.

She had seen the look on the god's face too, the look of someone who knew exactly the kind of effect his words were going to have, and he delighted in it.

And Annabeth was angry. She wanted to march right back to the Underworld, Master Bolt blazing, fight her way through to the palace, and force Hades to take her to Luke, and take Percy to his mother, and then _bring them back up_.

Annabeth yanked the Master Bolt out of the bag, and thrust it at Ares. The lightning that discharged was bright powerful, but in the time it took for the daughter of Athena to get the Bolt and use it, the war god had put on the Helm and vanished.

The lightning sailed harmlessly out over the beach.

"Annabeth!" Hedge roared, and he snagged the Master Bolt out of her hand. "You have no idea how to use this thing! You could've blown yourself up, or killed us all, or destroyed the whole city!"

" _Luke!_ " Annabeth shrieked back, her voice broken and desperate.

Hedge was going to offer the closest thing to comfort that he could, but the Master Bolt was then ripped free from his grasp. Ares became visible, a black Spartan helmet with horns and a red plume upon his head, his father's most powerful weapon held reverently in his hand.

The war god gasped as power visibly surged through him, and his form changed. He grew to ten feet tall, and his body became covered in heavy, black armor from head to toe, not a single bit of skin showing. A massive cape grew behind him. The Master Bolt changed from a cylinder into a massive broadsword that let out the occasionally crackle of electricity.

Ares summed up the situation with three words. "You're all fucked."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Percy had been rendered shell shocked by Hades' last words, and so he had missed out on the Ares episode. However, the boy was grounded back to reality when he felt the surge of power that came with the war god powering up with not one, but _two_ Big Three symbols of power, reaching a level of strength that not even a host of Titans would've been able to overcome.

Percy looked to the sea with desperation suddenly overwhelming him in the face of something so powerful out to kill him, and he saw something washed up in the surf that made his face nearly split apart.

There, buried halfway in the sand, was a clear bottle filled with a clear liquid. The label on the bottle was comprised of various green shades, but the name was clear: in big letters was the word "Spirytus," and below it was another in smaller letters, "Delikatesowy."

Spirytus Delikatesowy Vodka from Poland.

At 95% alcohol by volume, it was the strongest, most powerful spirit in the mortal world, never to be consumed neat, which meant by itself with nothing else, only as a little bit of a float.

Percy bounded for the bottle and scooped it up, his mouth already watering at the potential taste of the vodka.

His movement had caught attention, with Annabeth and Hedge turning around and paling, remembering what those of Roanapur had said about Percy drinking alcohol, and Ares laughing.

"Yes, go ahead and have a drink, little boy. You're about to die anyway, so you might as well."

Percy grinned, undid the cap, and started guzzling the world's strongest alcohol like a professional.

 _GLUGGLUGGLUG_

The waves hitting the surf suddenly stilled, the ocean going quiet.

 _GLUGGLUGGLUG_

Above, the clouds suddenly froze in place, the winds vanishing from the area. The sun stopped its downward decline, halting at the summer five o'clock spot.

 _GLUG-GLUG-GLUG_

Annabeth and Hedge both gained a set of wide, stricken eyes as they watched a little boy drink 95% abv vodka like it was water.

 _GLUG—GLUG—GLUG_

Ares watched, awestruck, at the little demigod downing the spirit like a pro, and started considering sparing the boy to use as a drinking buddy in the new world.

 _GLUG…GLUG…GLUG_

The super-powerful war god then started to take note of all the unnatural weather phenomena, wondering if had anything to do with Percy, but then wrote that off.

 _Glug…Glug…Glug_

Obviously, it was his own new powers that had been the cause for the very forces of nature to behave as they were, because they were in awe and terror of his new powers. Obviously.

… _glug…glug…_ _ **empty**_ _…_

Percy had just done the otherwise impossible: he had successfully chugged a 500mL bottle of the purest spirit on the planet in less than a minute. He swayed back and forth like a metronome, before collapsing backward, flat on his back.

Ares barked a short laugh. "HA! Final minute of life and he kills himself drinking. What an absolute mad lad as the mortals say these days! I'll be sure that the Muses sing of that tale for eons. Now, rearranging the cosmos as I see fit… _what the Hades!?_ "

Annabeth and Hedge looked, and they saw Percy, standing up but unnaturally. His feet were firmly planted in the sand, and he was _folding upward_ , spine cracking a little bit with the undulation. He straightened and hunched over slightly, just enough for his bangs to obscure his upper face.

Then…

 _FWOOOOOOOOOOOSH!_

Percy's eyes violently alit with the force of over a million suns, emitting a cantankerous aura that blasted away the sand and the water and sent tendrils of lightning flickering out all over the place. At the same time, a metal rock song started to blare from unseen speakers, a metal song accompanied by an accordion of all things.

 _VODKA!_

 _VODKA!_

 _VODKA-hey!_

The beast dropped and Percy was off like a photon from the sun. One second Ares was there, and the next he was gone in a flash of light. Annabeth and Hedge got swept up in the tailwind and were thankfully taken away by wind spirits to a safer place while Percy laid the smackdown.

Blinding streaks of light trailed from Percy's eyes as he ran, his legs going so fast they appeared as to be moving in circles like the Roadrunner of the _Looney Tunes_. A gigantic rooster tail of water was launched into the air behind him and streaked across the Pacific. Ahead of him was Ares, still in flight from the first blow.

The war god had zero idea about what had just happened, but right now he was hurting, and he was moving not of his own accord.

In their extradimensional space, the various gods and goddesses watched with slacked jaws at the spectacle unfolding beneath them.

Empowered by the _VODKA!_ and the sea, Percy was an unstoppable grinning typhoon.

He slammed into Ares from the left, then went streaking all the way across the ocean to slam into him from the right, and that continued for a long time. Percy left a grid pattern over the Pacific he was moving so fast, kicking Ares across the ocean like the world's most volatile soccer ball.

Up in space, a satellite caught the battle and started sweating in nervousness at the light show hundreds of thosuands of feet below.

Ares attempted to right himself after probably the hundredth strike, but he got smacked upside the head, kicked in the gut, smacked upside the head again, took a punch to the jaw, then one to the nose, the one to his lower spine—all in the span of a second, mind you, with each blow generating a shockwave powerful enough to cause giant inverted hemispheres to get blown into the ocean's surface.

Then a sound like a howitzer cannon going off, caused by Ares taking a boot to his armored dick, launched the god of war screaming into the air making a sound like a little girl, and Percy running right up after him.

Yes, running. Running on the very air itself.

Twin streaks of light were left in the air behind him as raced after the flying deity. Percy kicked Ares again, creating a sonic boom. He kept racing up after Ares, kicking him again and again, just like a soccer ball, and once they cleared the Earth's atmosphere, Percy sped right up to Ares and reared his leg all the way back and-

 _-slammed it so fucking hard into Ares' nuts that he went shooting halfway to the moon in the blink of an eye._

The poor satellite screamed when the god went passed, but thankfully no harm came to it. Then it scream again when Percy the Lightbeam went right passed like a freight train from Hell itself.

As fast as Ares was going, Percy became even faster, streaking forward so fast that he got right behind the god and whipped his leg around so hard and fast that the limb seemed to bend, fold, and distort, and he caught Ares right in his gut and sent him hurling back to Earth.

Running through the void of space itself like the maniac he was, Percy kicked Ares over and over again until they hit the atmosphere and Percy firmly planted his foot somewhere between his cousin's lungs and colon and promptly used him as a heatshield.

Faster than the fastest of falling stars, Percy laughed hysterically as he slammed Ares all the way from orbit down to the beach of Santa Monica, creating a blinding flash of light that encompassed the entirety of the Western hemisphere.

Ares had been fried to a crispy husk, and Percy was standing at the lip of the crater in a 4th Position ballet stance, chest heaving, grin small but packing energy, eyes tired but alive. In his hands were the Master Bolt and Helm of Darkness.

Annabeth and Hedge were standing there, jaws agape and eyes wide.

Percy let out a wheeze and passed out.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _ **I can neither confirm nor deny that I may have been under the influence when writing that final scene.**_

 _ **Next chapter is the wrapping up of the final stages of the Lightning Thief arc, with the conversation on Olympus, the final scenes at camp, the introduction of Percy's pairing for the story, and him and Annabeth packing up and going back to Roanapur, where I'm going to leave you people on a cliffhanger.**_

 _ **Fav, Follow, and Review please!**_

 _ **Seriously, Review. It's been nine months, yeah, but I really need the show of support right now.**_


	16. Mama's Fallen Angel

_Mama's Fallen Angel_

 _ **Holy crap, I'd forgotten what Reviews felt like. After a nine-month hiatus, over 20 is some good numbers. Let's keep that trend strong for the next for the next handful of chapters.**_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't PJO or BL

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _Olympus_

 _Throne Room_

"THAT'S MY GIRL!" Poseidon shouted, bolting off his throne with a pumped fist after watching Percy perform an Irish tap dance along the length of Ares' spine during reentry.

Hestia's brow cocked. "The Nereid said he identified as a boy, despite his ideas of a wardrobe and hair style."

"She did? Whatever. THAT'S MY BOY!"

Zeus dug a finger into his ear to stop the ringing. "No more alcohol for him. Ever. By Royal Decree."

"Oh, put a sock in it, Grumpy Pants. You're just embarrassed that your precious baby boy decided to go rogue for a little bit and threatened to rearrange the cosmos, and then got his ass handed to him my crossdressing son!"

Hestia coughed. "He _is_ wearing clothes for a boy."

"Yes, but he cut his shirts into crop tops and his shorts into short-shorts."

"They're still boys' clothes."

"Whatever. I've got to worry about batting the boys away from my baby with my trident."

Zeus' brows knit. "I didn't think he was gay."

"And he might not be," Poseidon agreed. "But even if he is, I shall love him anyway, and still protect him from the nasty boys. His cousins and uncles included."

Zeus glowered at his older brother.

He wouldn't _dare_ go after Percy…boy was too young. Give it another five years, then probably.

"Are you going to be batting away the girls, as well?" Hestia asked.

"Absolutely not."

"What if they want to dominate him with toys?"

"Then that is their private bedroom business and I have no power over that."

"So you don't mind a girl coming after Percy's butt with a strap-on, but you _do_ mind if a boy comes after Percy's butt with their penis?"

"Yes. A double standard, I know, but…" Poseidon shrugged. "I'm a dad."

Hestia gave him a flat look. "And how's Kymopoleia?"

Zeus furrowed his brow. "Who?"

"My daughter. And I'll have you know, sister, that I have reserved us a trip to the Somalian coast to sink pirate ships."

"Just pirate ships? What of the other freighters about the waves, the ones carrying illegal merchandise, like girls, guns, and harvested organs?"

"That's reserved for next year."

The flames of the hearth rose a little bit but quickly settled. "I see."

"I m-mean," Poseidon stuttered, "I'm sure Kym would love to get to that first, since those would be bigger ships…"

"Of course," Hestia said. "And I'm sure the women on board would be most grateful to be rescued from their deplorable fate."

"I-I'm sure they would be, too…"

"Divine intervention," Zeus said under his breath.

"Nonsense," Hestia waved her hand. "We gods are just _so fond_ of sending heroes on errands and quests for us, aren't we? No reason we can't send some demigods to rescue the ladies, and _then_ let Kym have her fun."

The brothers shifted in their thrones. It was a long-standing thing of Hestia's, frowning very heavily on how the gods treated their offspring.

"I'll…I'll keep that in mind."

"Anywho~," Hestia suddenly chirped, a bright smile appearing on her childish face. "Percy is on his way here to deliver the Master Bolt, and I expect the both of you to be on your best behavior, especially you, Zeus. Your nephew has done nothing wrong, and you know it."

"But—that alcohol thing-"

"Is none of your business nor concern, and he will be allowed to drink whenever the situation needs for it, clear?"

Zeus looked like he was trying to swallow an orchard of lemons—which he had done before on a _really_ drunken night.

"Little brother~," Hestia sang-songed.

"I'll-" the sky king choked and cleared his throat. "I shall be a respectable king."

"Good. I'd _hate_ to have to go get Mother."

The brothers both paled at the mention of Rhea. The last time she had been up here…the brothers shuddered at the phantom pain that crept from their bottoms.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The Furies came up and retrieved the Helm of Darkness, doing it so fast that Annabeth didn't get a chance to say anything about Luke, leaving her angry, bitter, and resentful, but a quick pep talk from Hedge didn't bring her spirits up to a green level, but it did set her back to neutral.

With Percy completely out cold from his…whatever that had been, it was up to Hedge and Annabeth to procure travel from Santa Monica to Manhattan, which they chose to do via airplane, riding on the gamble that Lord Zeus wouldn't blow them out of the sky, because of Percy being a son of Poseidon, with his Master Bolt on his way back to them.

Boarding was easy with a little bit of Mist. Hedge, Annabeth, and the sleeping Percy, held to the latter's hip like a small child (he kinda was, really, not being a very big twelve-year-old) with his arms and legs dangling loosely about, a stream of drool getting Annabeth's shirt dirty.

She didn't really mind that, being accustomed to waking up covered in Luke's pee just about every other night due to him being a bedwetter thanks to his insane mother traumatizing him and not finishing his toilet training, and the highs-tress lifestyle of being homeless and on the run from monsters and social services.

Drool was much preferable to pee.

The whole length of the flight, a very smooth one, due to Zeus wanting his weapon back, Percy continued to nap peacefully, not stirring, twitching, or even dreaming from what Annabeth could tell. Hedge tried to extract him from her so she could sit a little more comfortably in her first class seat, but Percy's grip had tightened subconsciously, and Annabeth waved the satyr off before Percy accidentally crushed her ribs.

Besides, him sleeping on her wasn't that bad.

He was rather warm and cuddly.

The plane touched down at the JFK Memorial Airport, and Annabeth let Percy sleep the rest of the trip to the Empire State Building in the taxi, but when they got there, she nudged him awake and informed him that it was time to take care of business.

She used the Mist on the driver of the cab, led the way into the Building, accosted the man behind the desk, who by now knew who she was from all the Winter Solstice fieldtrips she had been on, received the special key to the secret 600th Floor, and then up they went.

The golden doors opened and revealed Mount Olympus in all her godly glory.

Magnificent palaces and monuments. Beautiful arrangements of flowers and fruit. Towering statues of gods, demigods, and noteworthy spirits of nature. An aroma of only good smells, the sounds of only good music. Percy's jaw was a little slack, whereas Annabeth had seen this view so many times she was bored with it, and Hedge personally disliked Olympus.

All these gods and satyrs and nymphs and dryads up here partying and fucking around while down below nature was slowly choking to death and demigods were either getting eaten alive or were being abused by their parents and/or society.

It made the coach want to take his baseball bat and start swinging some sense into people.

"I'll wait below," Hedge growled.

Annabeth nodded and gently grabbed Percy's hand in hers, something he didn't protest, and led him through the clean streets of the gods' home while the satyr went back down to Earth.

As they walked for the throne room, they drew attention. Minor gods stopped what they were doing to stare, lots of them in awe. Nature spirits halted to point and whisper, holding their noses at the rank human stench that permeated Percy's and Annabeth's atmospheres. The Nine Muses themselves, hosting a small public concert, stopped their performance to look at the demigods.

Annabeth pointedly ignored it all, while Percy was used to people stopping to stare at him.

In Roanapur, he was widely known as a member of Black Lagoon, and as the nephew of Balalaika, the leader of Hotel Moscow, the most powerful underworld presence not only on the island but also for the surrounding hundred miles. He also known as a crossdresser (which he wasn't!) which made people think he was the submissive kind of gay (which he _definitely_ wasn't!).

Being looked at was hardly anything new to Percy, since he was considered a prized object. Leverage to be used, a ransom, a hostage, and plenty of sick pigs who would just love to tie him up and pass his butt around for use.

Percy shuddered at the thought, and Annabeth took to mean something else.

"Don't let them get to you. This'll probably your last time up here, anyway."

Percy just nodded.

The two eventually made it to the biggest, grandest, most opulent building on the mountain: the throne room. Annabeth unslung the bag with the Master Bolt in it, took out said weapon, and handed it to Percy.

"Go save the world," she commanded, ruffling his hair.

Percy figured that since it was his quest, it made sense that he finish it alone, though he wasn't fine with coming all this way with Annabeth only for her to stop at the finish line. Regardless, he squared his shoulders and stood up straight.

Percy pushed open the doors and entered the Olympian throne room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Zeus and Poseidon were the only one present, and the brothers both remembered their big sister's threat very well, and so they were both making the conscious effort to be on their best behavior towards their nephew/son.

Though that didn't stop Zeus from using his Glare of the King™ on Percy as the boy approached, bringing him his weapon—the weapon that had brought about a new age in the world and had kept order throughout.

To be honest, Zeus didn't know what to say. He recognized the fact that Poseidon had broke the oath and that Percy represented a clear danger to the world, with the Great Prophecy seemingly in play, but Jason was on the other side of the continent, at the top of his class in the Master's Swordsmanship program, due to turn twelve just next week on the First. Zeus also couldn't viably or reasonably blame the Theft on Percy, since the boy had been in Thailand (and it obviously showed, given his clothing choices) for the past four years.

He really couldn't _hate_ Percy either. Witnessing the rape and murder of your mother before your eight-year-old eyes, then going on the run and killing police officers that tried to kidnap you, was a rather rough experience by most people's standards. Then there was the living hell that was Roanapur, and while that was self-inflicted experience, that island was nothing but trauma.

There gods that _refused_ to go anywhere near that island, so if that didn't tell you about the environment there, Zeus didn't know what else to tell you.

There was also the brief Ares fiasco, in which the king's problem child of a son had put on the Helm of Darkness _and_ equipped the Master Bolt, achieving a level of power so great, he probably could've fought the Titanomachy by himself and almost win.

Speaking of the Titans…

 _Who_ had stolen the Bolt and the Helm, _why_ did they do it, _what_ was their plan, and _where_ were they going with them?

Zeus didn't like this: a son of his own, a daughter turned into a tree, a nephew running about unsupervised, symbols of power being stolen, and Ares going rogue. After the theft, Zeus had sent his children out to find the Thief, and it was apparent that Ares had succeeded—an interesting occurrence, given Artemis was alive and well—and the god had said nothing about it, giving the Bolt to the demigods, and keeping the Helm to himself.

An unknown thief, Big Three demigods, and rogue Olympians—though hopefully Ares was an isolated case.

No, Zeus did not like this at all.

He tuned back in and saw that Percy was thirty feet away, right in the middle of waving at Poseidon. Poseidon waved back, and Zeus blinked. Percy offered the Bolt, and his lips moved.

 _Here's your glowstick._

Poseidon let out a chortle and Zeus shot his brother a glare before extending his hand and summoning his Bolt back to him. It reached his hand and grew to its usual size, the sound of crashing lightning and roaring thunder accompanying the Bolt's triumphant return.

Zeus looked down at his nephew. "Well done. You have honored this house. I give you my permission to fly." He looked at Poseidon. "I'll be leaving for the forges. My bolt needs to be purified."

The sky king vanished in a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder.

He did not go straight to the forges, but instead to Hestia's modest palace.

"How'd I do?" the king asked like an eager child.

"You did wonderfully," Hestia said earnestly.

Zeus beamed, a strange look given his beard and mustache.

Back in the throne room, Poseidon left his throne and his body turned into water. The glob of liquid shrank and reformed into the sea god, only at six feet tall. He opened his arms with a broad smile. "Daughter!"

Percy reared his leg back and nailed his dad in the nuts so hard he collapsed to his knees and coughed a little bit of golden _ichor_ , immortal god blood. Percy crossed his arms and huffed down at his wheezing father.

"Maybe I don't have to worry about boys after all," Poseidon said in a high-pitched voice, as if he had been breathing helium.

Percy blinked, wondering what that meant.

Poseidon picked himself off the floor, and tried again. "Son!"

Glaring, Percy accepted the hug.

"Alright then, questions: yes, I love you very much, and I loved your mother very much. I offered to make her a goddess and build her a palace in Atlantis. She refused on the grounds of if her life was going to have any meaning, she had to solver her own problems…"

Father and son shared a unifying moment of bitterness, before Poseidon forged on.

"After you were conceived, I couldn't stay with your mother any longer, and I cut all but the barest traces of contact with her. I feared that Zeus would notice my absence and would catch on to what I had done, which would've resulted in yours and Sally's… _collective_ premature…"

Poseidon trailed off, not able to say it. There was nothing else he could say. No excuses, stories, reasons, anything to explain and/or justify his leaving of Sally. She had died anyway, despite his efforts and sacrifices.

Then it became too much for both of them, and four years of pent-up sadness and heartbreak went plowing right through their emotional dams.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Percy left the throne room with a small, happy smile on his face, and rejoined Annabeth outside. She took note of his good mood and chalked it up to a good talk with his dad. Percy slipped his hand into Annabeth's and down they went, back for the elevator.

The silence between them was comfortable, and this time the streets were empty of gods and spirits, but it didn't feel eerie or abandoned.

They reached the elevator and descended from the mountain of the gods, and instead of the usual crappy elevator music that Annabeth had dealt with the handful of times she had been to Olympus, she was being treated to some actual good music.

 _Win big—mama's fallen angel~_

 _Lose big—living out her lies_

 _Wants it all—mama's fallen angel~_

 _Lose big—rolling the dice of her life_

Annabeth wondered if some god was messing with her, or if the song was even directed at her and not just some coincidence, but she didn't dwell on it for long, because the doors opened with a ding and there was a crowd of people waiting to board.

It was a good thing Annabeth had long since warped the Mist around Percy to make his appearance modest, and to hide his guns, otherwise the police would've been after them long ago, which would've resulted in another shoot out thanks to Percy's pathological hatred and mistrust of law enforcement.

They exited the Empire State Building with Annabeth's plan being to bid Chiron goodbye, pack her things, have Percy phone-in the necessary flight, and then go to Roanapur with him and face the music of Revy, Balalaika, and the organized criminal underground.

But that plan never got to take off an account of there being an extensively, and illegally, modified Hummer stretch limo waiting outside the doors. Annabeth and Percy recognized the tricked-out vehicle as the War Machine that had carried them from Manhattan all the way to St. Louis.

"Hey, guys," Driver Guy said, leaning against the door. "So, remember what I said a few days back about how when freaky shit happens, the Boss Lady calls us back?"

"Yes…" Annabeth said, and she could feel Percy's muscles coiling.

"Well, since you guys are here, the Boss Lady wants us to bring you in for a meet and greet, and a business proposition for the little guy."

"Where's Hedge?"

Driver Guy knocked on the door, and the window a few paces back rolled down to reveal the satyr in question.

"Get in, cupcakes. We're going to meet a mob boss."

Annabeth and Percy looked at each other, shrugged, and got in the opened door.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Instead of going to a stereotypical abandoned warehouse, the War Machine instead went to a parking garage, one that had obviously been specifically designed to let stretch vehicles maneuver about. Driver Guy parked, and all the other guys in the War Machine filed out, including the questing trio.

They were led through the lot to a door in the wall that led into an annex to an office building. The office was your typical office, but if anyone cared about over half a dozen heavily armed men in body armor leading a gym teacher, a teenage girl, and a little boy with questionable outfit choices, they didn't say anything.

The procession stopped outside a door—the only door along the whole of this particular wide hallway—where there was a name plate, but Percy didn't get a chance to decipher it through his dyslexia before Driver Guy clapped his shoulders.

"Okay: The Boss Lady want to talk with you personally because your aunt runs Hotel Moscow. Now, she's a little bit weird in the head, but she's got a good head, and we all love her, so you're going to deal with her weirdness, got it?"

Percy nodded.

"Then go ahead, buddy."

Driver Guy opened the door inward and Percy slipped inside, the door brought shut behind him.

The office he was now in was spacious, with a grand view of the city below, mostly unobstructed by other skyscrapers. There were shelves on the walls, occupied with books, guns, grenades, snipers, rocket launchers, and ammunition for it all. There was a mahogany desk low to the ground before him, and a high-backed executive chair turned away from him.

Percy noted on the desk, among the papers, computer, manila folders, some stacks of cash, and the typical office knickknacks, was an Imperial Gold saber, the kind of sword a pirate used back in the day.

The chair spun around, its occupant choosing to face him, and Percy swallowed hard as he felt heat rise to his cheeks.

The Boss Lady was actually a little Latina that was his age, her dark hair pulled into a loose braid over her right shoulder, her bangs also swept to her right. She was wearing a desert camouflage tank top and a pair of desert camo athletic shorts, no shoes, and was sitting in such a way in the chair that her crotch was a focal point.

She was holding a piece of beef jerky to the corner of her mouth, chewing on just a nibble of it.

Her most striking feature, however, was the eyepatch over her left eye, along with the scar tissue running above her brow and then continuing down her cheek, meaning she was either really dedicated to pulling off a pirate look with that saber and some makeup, or someone had cut her eye out.

Her working eye was dark, and was roaming up and down his body, appraising him as if a prize piece of cattle to use in a blue-ribbon breeding program. Though Percy couldn't tell if he was supposed to be the one breeding or the one getting bred.

"Hi there, Percy," the Boss Lady attempted to purr, but it sounded more like a leer. "They told me you were a boy, but that's okay. I'm willing to try new things."

She climbed onto her desk like a cat about to pounce, intentionally bending forward to reveal she wasn't wearing a bra under the tank top, which let show the little nubs that barely qualified as boobs. She was obviously trying to seduce him, but Percy was more inclined to jumping out the window at this point.

He also noted how her hands were resting on the saber: one hand on the hilt, the other at the end of the scabbard.

"My name's _Reyna_ , it's Spanish for _queen_ , and I think I wanna make you my _king_."

Reyna then attempted to some front-flip maneuver off her desk, trying to draw her sword in the process, but she epically failed, somehow throwing the blade and scabbard to opposite walls of the office, while also getting her shorts caught on the monitor of her computer, which was bolted onto the desk and therefore had much more resistance than the fabric of her bottoms, and ended up tearing them clean from her body.

To finish off whatever this was supposed to be, Reyna landed before Percy on her butt, having bopped her head on the floor, and her legs spread wide open, revealing her embarrassing underwear, making Percy's flush deepen at what he saw.

Now, you're thinking _Oh, God, another diaper thing. Let's just get this over with_.

WRONG!

YOU ARE _WRONG_ IF YOU THINK THIS ANOTHER DIAPER THING!

It's not even a pull-up thing, either.

Nope, Reyna is wearing bonified big girl panties, as in, the kind of _big girl_ panties you'd expect a "big girl" to be wearing right after she was considered to be completely potty trained. In this episode of absolute failure, Reyna, who in this world will be revealed to be an undisputable badass in the next chapter, was wearing a pair of:

Cinderella-themed princess panties.

Staring up at Percy was the smiling icon, inked into the fabric in a design of herself dancing among the birds and the mice. It should also be noted that the piece of jerky Reyna had been eating previously had somehow ended up in the crouch of her panties, a bit of it sticking out the waistband up towards her bellybutton.

At least, Percy thought to himself as he tried to find a positive to this situation, she likes Cinderella.

Cinderella was his favorite princess after all, since her color scheme was blue.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _ **So, who's your favorite Disney princess, and why?**_

 _ **And just how do you think "Mama's Fallen Angel" applies to Reyna in this story?**_

 _ **And to my American brethren: Happy Independence Day of 2019!**_

 _ **And to my foreign brethren: *laughs in Moon-landing***_

 _ **In all seriousness, though, the next chapter is Reyna's backstory revealed for this little piece of fiction, and it is not a pretty one, if her behavior and missing eye weren't clear enough. There's also here "business proposition" to go over, and here's a hint:**_

 _ **The first Lair of Romulus.**_

 _ **Fav, Follow, and Review please!**_


	17. Hell is for Children

_Hell is for Children_

 _ **In the spirit of**_ **Black Lagoon** _ **, in that there are many light-hearted chapters with some gritty ones fitting right along with the others, this'll be one of those gritty chapters, since this chapter is mostly about how Reyna got started in the Manhattan area.**_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't PJO or BL

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As far as Reyna knew, her life began a little bit after she turned eight. Mostly because, during a cold winter night in San Juan, what was left of her father had finally gone into an insane rage.

He had been deteriorating for years, suffering from PTSD that stemmed from his days in Iraq. The enemies he killed, the friends he lost, that bomb exploding and peppering him with shrapnel that was still embedded in him, the surgeons unable to remove it. It all weighed on his psyche, slowly and steadily crumbling his mind, sanity, and will.

Bellona hadn't helped, with her prophetic words about the Ramirez-Arellano family line.

Julian, Reyna's father, had made their house like a fortress prison. Barbed wire lined the roof and the windowsills. Sheets of metal were bolted to the outer walls. A tall iron fence stood oppressively around the house, also topped with barbed wire. There were landmines buried in the yard, and hidden niches along the walls for snipers to shoot from.

Never mind the inside.

In Julian's quest to prepare his daughters for whatever it was Bellona spoke of, he had gone insane. He put them through ridiculous drills and exercises from young ages, the reward for which was food, drink, and the privilege to use the toilet.

An aching stomach accompanied with wet and messy pants served as excellent motivators to do better next time, you see, especially with panties instead of pull-ups.

Oh no, Julian had wasted no time with spending extra money on fancier diapers, putting his daughters straight into cotton underwear as soon as they started walking. They figured out real fast how uncomfortable soiled bottoms were, with the pee-soaked material clinging to their bodies, and the sticky goo in their seats irritating their skin to create intense rashes.

On top of this kind of psychological punishment, Julian was no stranger to corporeal punishment either, having a length of wood about two feet long, two inches wide, and an inch thick, a smattering of holes near the top, to use for spankings. The weapon was affectionately referred to as "The Stick," and the very mention of it was enough to terrify both Hylla and Reyna.

The Stick also had cousins, like "The Belt," "The Spatula," and "The Flyswatter."

They didn't inspire the same emotion The Stick did, but they were effective.

Julian disciplined them hard, excessively, unreasonably, and monstrously so. There were times in which even though the sister had performed well enough to reap the rewards of food, drink, and the toilet, he still denied them on the grounds of buildings discipline. He'd make them starve, and he'd make them hold it.

He'd lock all the kitchen and bathroom doors, and if he caught them trying to pick the locks or steal the key from him, he'd them over his knee and use The Stick on their bare bottoms until the skin cracked and bled, and then he'd keep going until their throats were too sore from screaming to make any more sound.

If they had accidents—a common occurrence given the restricted bathroom access and the extremely high-stress environment they lived in—Julian had a punishment ready to go.

He had an iron stake bolted into the basement of the house, and one in the attic, both with a length of chain and collar with a tag with each girl's name on it. Next to the stakes was an absorbent pad used for puppies, a bowl full of dogfood and another bowl full of water. If Hylla and/or Reyna were going to shit and piss all over _his_ floor, or in their beds, like animals, then he was going to treat them like animals.

He'd chain them up and leave them on the pads with the bowls, completely naked. Julian would check on them whenever, and if he found the pads dirty, he'd grab them by the scruffs of their necks and force their noses down into the mess, exactly like you'd do with a potty training puppy.

Sometimes Hylla and Reyna would have an accident on purpose just to have access to water and at least something to eat.

Julian also didn't do any laundry himself, or own a washer or drying machine, mostly because he was slowly becoming intangible and incorporeal, so when it came to clean their clothes of grime, the sisters had to it by hand in the sinks. Despite their scrubbing, the stains of their bodily fluids barely came out, leaving them to wear their garish clothes.

With Julian becoming a mania, a mad spirit, he didn't ever go out and buy new clothes for his daughters—he couldn't, really, after a point—which left it up to Hylla to provide for her little sister as best she could, giving her better hand-me downs to Reyna, while also having to squeeze uncomfortably into her own getting-to-be-too-small outfits, especially with her body entering the stages of maturity.

Considering their lack of conventional education, it mostly being limited to military exercises, drills, and tactics, how to deal with certain landmines, how to reload and maintain guns, unjam them, stitch clothing—though Julian never provided enough material for new outfits—first aid, along with some history, math, science, Spanish, and English, Hylla wasn't as freaked out as you might think when suddenly she started bleeding from that other hole between her legs that hadn't nothing to do with pee or poop.

She just thought she had taken too much damage during an exercise and was internally bleeding, and that one hole had been specifically designed as an exit for such high amounts of blood.

The sisters tried to escape several times, never actually thinking of getting _help_ , since the only person they knew was each other and their father, but they never made it. They had to figure out how to get out of their house in the first place, which was harder than one would think given the lack of distinct features like furniture or wall art, and the place was big. They eventually figured out which was the right door, but then they had to figure out how to get across the yard, and then after that, past the fence.

They never got the chance to figure out the yard, because Julian was always right on top of them once they left the house.

The punishments that came with those incursions were the worst.

After spanking them until both were bleeding, he'd seal them in a latex bodysuit and vacuum the air out, letting them suffocate for a few seconds before cutting a small hole where their mouths would be, and then he'd string them up to the ceiling and let them dangle, the latex so tight they could barely move.

Julian would get The Belt and whip them both.

Of course, without food, water, and bathroom breaks for the duration of this punishment, and after he let them down, if they were soiled, he'd subject them to the animal punishment mentioned above.

Attempts at fighting back were futile, since he was just so much bigger, stronger, and military trained. If Hylla or Reyna tried to fight back with their fists, he'd just beat them with his own and then get The Stick, The Belt, The Spatula, and The Flyswatter, using all on both girls until he was done with them.

They had tried with blades. Julian had an extensive collection of knives about the house, and he had trained his daughters in how to use them, just like he had guns, but trying to out-blade him was just as futile. In one of the last battles the father/daughters ever had, Julian cut Reyna's eye out with the pirate saber that hung over the fireplace.

If the sisters didn't have each other, they would've died. But they pulled each other through, sharing their strength and their courage and their resilience and their everything. Despite their tortures, they did grow strong. They became accustomed to pain, good friends with it, so much so they started getting numb to their father's physical attacks. Their bodies adapted to a lifestyle of little sleep and little nourishment, building a strong tolerance to hunger and thirst and fatigue. Their sphincters also strengthened to the point to where they could abstain from the toilet for weeks.

And their _will_ —by God, their _will_.

Their willpower was unbreakable, unyielding, untamable. They refused to be broken by their father, and each time he struck them or yelled at them or punished them, their resolve to _kill_ him and escape grew stronger and stronger.

So in a way, Julian had accomplished everything he had set out to do: he had his daughters strong, determined, resilient, and powerful.

Of course, like it was stated paragraphs above, Reyna didn't remember any of this. After her eighth year was when her memory started to work in earnest, and she could only recall just the barest traces from her first years of life.

That was because, on a cold winter night, after another failed escape attempt, Julian had finally died, the last physical remnants of him being destroyed by Reyna.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The fire painted the room in an evil scarlet, the flickering flames causing the shadows to warp and twist, making it look as if demons were dancing along to the horror.

Reyna's head was swimming with pain, and she felt warm, sticky liquid dripping from the side of her skull. She remembered being caught, she remembered her father's anger as he lashed out at Hylla, she remembered trying to fight him, and she remembered being thrown at the wall.

However, she couldn't remember anything else.

Reyna couldn't remember _why_ she and her sister were trying to escape. She could no longer remember the tortures, the training, the punishments, nothing of her life. But her body retained its memory. She still had those strong sphincters, that numbness to pain, and that tolerance to hunger and thirst, but she couldn't remember how she had received those things.

It was a major concussion, plain and simple.

With bleary eyes, she looked around, and what she saw brought forth situational clarity to her: Hylla was pinned to the ground, their father straddling her with his big military body, and his arm was going back forth with The Belt, presumably across Hylla's face.

Reyna didn't know how she knew that jumping on him and trying to strangle him wouldn't work, but she didn't argue with her subconscious mind and instead rapidly looked for alternative solutions. Her eyes locked onto the saber mounted above the fireplace, and she jumped.

Tearing the sword free of its scabbard, she rushed forward, sword above her head, and slashed down.

The blade bit halfway through Julian's skull, right down the middle, and he went rigid with an otherworldly howl.

Reyna screamed herself, not in fear or terror of the fact her father was still alive after taking a sword to his head, but in exertion of pushing the blade _down_. Blood sprayed all over living room, drenching Reyna, the ceiling, the walls, the floor, and Hylla. Julian continued to screech and howl, purple lightning sparking about the room as Reyna forced the sword through his body, inch by inch.

Bone cracked apart, skin was sliced open, and muscle was severed under Reyna's strength, and finally, after much blood and screaming and lightning, Julian split in half down to the top of his tailbone, his body still one piece through his crotch only. The corpse fell backward, falling to either side of Reyna, drenching her in even more blood.

The fire went out, taking with it its evil scarlet light. The lamps from the street provided a dim glow that allowed Reyna to see.

"Hylla…?" she asked tentatively, her sister not moving. "Hylla, come on. We have to go."

Reyna shoved her father's already-stinking remains away, freeing her sister from the rest of his weight. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom, and she entered the first stage of grief.

Hylla's eyes were glassed over and unseeing, her chest still and unmoving. Her throat was misshapen, covered in a dark bruise the same shape as their father's hand. Across her face were angry welts from where he had beaten her with The Belt. Quite obviously, she was dead, choked to death by her father.

Reyna's breath left her at the same time the tears did too.

"Hylla? Hylla!"

She shook her sister, desperately thinking that maybe her sister was just playing dead, or maybe if she tried hard enough, she could wake her sister back up. But no matter how much shaking she did, Hylla remained silent.

Reyna's shaking and crying devolved into hitting and sobs. She had entered the second stage of grief. Pounding on her sister's body, shouting at the corpse for abandoning her, Reyna broke just a little, angry at the situation, and angry that no matter how hard she tried, she could barely remember anything before just a few minutes ago.

Her anger quickly redirected itself, however, and she took up the sword that was lying bloody on the floor, and started taking the rest of her anger out on the other corpse, hacking and chopping until the fiery emotion burned out of her system, and she was left alone on the floor of the house.

The third and fourth stages went by at the same time, but they lingered for a while as Reyna just sat there on her knees, staring blankly at the smelly, bloody mess she had made out of Julian, blood dripping from her while blood also dried on her.

After an hour, one that seemed like just a few seconds, Reyna stirred, her muscles and bones popping and groaning in protest after having been stuck in the same awkward position for so long. She seamlessly entered the fifth stage, the shock she was in helping with the process.

Her sister was dead by her father's hand, and her father was dead by her hand.

Her future was hers to decide.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"…and eventually some old war buddies of his found me and we started a little gang, and now we've up to prime status in Manhattan. And I kept the sword," Reyna finished recounting her beginning to Percy, starting with the failed escape attempt since she didn't remember anything besides that. "Hey, you want this?"

She pulled the piece of beef jerky out of her Cinderella panties, having left the piece there since her little tumble last chapter.

Percy, for his part, had given Reyna his undivided attention, quite a feat given his hyperactiveness, and he was hardly phased by the story of an abusive father killing is own daughter and then the other daughter killing the father. Stories like that were a dime a dozen in Roanapur, and besides: he had his own little horror story to tell, and was just all-around desensitized to such things.

At being asked if he wanted the jerky, he vigorously shook his head no.

Reyna looked confused. "Seriously? It's _beef jerky_ , and it's been all over my girl parts! What guy _wouldn't_ want this?"

Well, Percy was still a boy. Even though he turned thirteen in about six weeks, he had yet to have his first wet dream, or even his first erection. He hadn't started puberty at all, so no. The appeal to eating some beef jerky that had been all over a virgin vagina was completely lost to him. In fact, it was kinda disgusting, because he did know enough about anatomy to know that pee, blood, sweat, bacteria, and hair were all locals to that part of Reyna's body, and that was gross.

Since Percy was silent as all that ran through his mind, Reyna thought it meant something else. Seemingly, she just took note of what Percy was wearing.

"Wait— _are_ you straight? You do like girls, right?"

Percy blinked. Then he nodded yes.

"And you _still_ don't want this?"

Percy shook his head no.

Reyna stared at for a little bit, then shrugged. She took a bite of the jerky herself, and chewed as she spoke.

"So, I told me about you, now you tell you about me."

Percy stared at her.

Reyna's eyes widened when she realized what she said, and she swallowed the bite in her mouth. "Oops, sorry. Tell me about yourself. I want to know more about my future king."

Right, that. In all the excitement with her epic fail and then her backstory recollection, Percy had honestly forgotten that Reyna had tried seducing him before all that, saying how her name meant "queen" in Spanish, and she wanted him to be her "king."

Something he was _not_ okay with since he wasn't feeling the hormones yet.

However, Driver Guy outside had said that Reyna wanted to talk to him because his aunt was the leader of Hotel Moscow, which Percy took to mean that the girl before him wanted to set up some kind of arrangement, and so he filled his head with dreams about how proud Balalaika, Dutch, Revy, Rock, Benny and the rest of Hotel Moscow would be of him for setting up a new, successful partnership with whatever operation Reyna had going here.

Focusing on that and not at all on the half-naked girl in front of him, her Cinderella panties exposed while she ate a piece of beef jerky that had been resting against her crotch for half an hour, Percy indicated the computer since he wasn't about to mouth his backstory, and he certainly wasn't about to write it all down with paper and pencil.

Reyna got the message and beckoned him over, booting the computer up for him and opening up a Word document for him to type.

Percy got to work, keeping it simple:

 _Piece of crap stepdad called Gabe. Was a drunk, talked dirty, was mean, rude, and disrespectful of me and Mom, Sally. Stole money, left his crap everywhere, never cleaned up after himself, barely held a job for more than three months. Came home drunk one night and tried to rape Mom. She defended with a knife but it backfired. Raped her anyway and made me watch. Then slit her throat and her blood sprayed all over me. Gabe tried to rape me, but I shot him in the face and ran away to Montauk, killing some gang member and some police. Got there, was rescued by Aunt Balalaika and Hotel Moscow from Hellhounds, was taken to Roanapur, joined a group called Black Lagoon, with Dutch, Revy, Benny, and Rock. Went on missions, killed some people, saw some shit, was trained by Russian ex-special forces. Got dragged into the mythological world because Zeus' Master Bolt was stolen, and I had to go get it back._

Reyna followed along with narrow eyes, finishing her jerky. When Percy finished, she nodded.

"We were made for each other," she said sagely.

Percy stared at her.

"We both had really, really bad father-figures in our early lives. We both had females that we loved very much get killed in front of our eyes. We both killed our father-figures. We both ran away to find ex-military personnel to take us in and train us. We're both part of the criminal underworld. _And_ we're both demigods. We're made for each other."

Percy stared at her some more, slightly disturbed by the similarities in their lives, before typing on the computer:

 _Who's your parent?_

"Bellona, the Roman goddess of war."

 _Ah._

The existence of the Roman gods was not a secret to Percy, as Hotel Moscow was a melting pot of humans and demigods from across the mythological board, Roman deities included.

"Yep. So, will you be my king?"

Before he gave an answer, Percy gave it some serious thought. As far as his understanding of beauty went, Reyna was indeed beautiful, the eyepatch and scar tissue over her left eye not doing anything to deter from that. Her body was in peak condition for a girl their age, her hair was dark and lustrous, well-kept and maintained despite the profession they were in, and her visible eye glittered mischievously and dangerously—rather like Percy's own sea green eyes.

That, and she liked Cinderella.

But he also didn't like girls like _that_ yet.

Besides, his experiences with girls was rather sour, because typically the girls that interacted with him were whores, prostitutes, harlots, etc., that tried to kidnap him to use as a hostage or bargaining chip against Hotel Moscow for money and/or passage from Roanapur. It never ended well, because Percy was not shy about using his guns to kill them.

Still, Reyna was a pretty girl, but he was certainly not ready to become anyone's _king_.

He typed his answer on the computer:

 _Not yet. Not ready._

Reyna heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God. I'm not ready for a boyfriend either. Got too much going on in New York for a boyfriend." She clapped her hands. "Now that we have that outta the way, we can talk business."

When Driver Guy had told Percy beforehand that the Boss Lady, Reyna, was a bit weird in the head, _this_ was not what he had in mind.

"So, I've got all the little fish in my pond already, but there's this one group that's giving me hell. They're called Triumvirate Holdings, and I want Hotel Moscow's help."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I'm proud of you for stretching out your wings," Chiron told Annabeth, her bag packed with everything she was bringing with her, "but I can't say I like where you're flying to."

"It's probably the worst place on Earth," Annabeth agreed. "But Percy will be there. I need him, and he needs me."

"Bonded, have we?"

"Mm-hm. He reminds me of Luke, and I remind him of his mother."

Chiron hummed. "Perhaps it is a good thing you are going with him back to Roanapur. You'll be a dash of light in that dark place."

Annabeth crossed her arms. "What's with the poetry today?"

The centaur flushed and coughed into his fist. "Apollo wishes to _hang-out_ with me today, and so I'm preparing myself."

"I see."

They were on the porch of the Big House, looking over the valley. Percy was saying his goodbyes to anyone that said anything, with Brittney, head councilor of the Hermes cabin, assuring him that all of the guns and other weapons would be safe in his cabin until he got back, with him giving permission to use said weapons should such a drastic need arise.

"We never did discover the identity of the Thief," Chiron noted.

"Nope," Annabeth said. "You've got to wonder what their plan was, though. Were they aiming to start a war, and why? Get back at their parents, or were they a sociopath that just wanted to watch the world burn? A laugh, maybe? Bragging rights? Maybe they wanted the Bolt for themselves, or perhaps they were delivering it to someone as part of a larger scheme." The daughter of Athena shrugged. "It's fun to theorize, but who can say for sure?"

"Well, the Thief knows why they did it."

"True."

For over four thousand years had Chiron been a teacher of heroes. He had taught legends, like Heracles, Perseus, Achilles, Bellerophon, and hundreds more that had accomplished tremendous feats after the time of myth had ended, and therefore weren't told about except for in camp stories. Chiron had also walked among mortals, often as a schoolteacher, and he had seen many things.

Chiron knew many things. He had tremendous insight and intuition, wisdom and intelligence. He had seen the rising and falling of several things—civilizations, governments, people—and so he knew a thing or two about the human animal. It was with all this awareness that he looked down at the young woman next to him, sitting in such a way that her face was hidden from his sight, only the back of her head visible.

A cloud passed overhead, blocking out the sun, bringing the temperature down.

Just the way she had said it, _True_ —it rubbed Chiron wrong. He had been this girl's teacher and confidant for years. He _knew_ her. Hades, he had helped teach her to shave her body, pubes included, because she was too self-conscious about asking her elder cabinmates for guidance. Chiron had so much trust in her, that he considered her to more of his co-camp director than Dionysus was.

"Annabeth," Chiron said carefully. She turned her head slightly. "Do you know…do you know who the Thief is?"

The daughter of Athena turned fully around, her grey eyes glittering.

"Not a clue, my old friend, not a clue."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Annabeth and Percy boarded a private plane courtesy of Hotel Moscow's American branches, and they flew across the world in a single flight, landing in Thailand, and then taking a provided limo to Roanapur.

With it being daytime now, instead of pouring rain like the last time she had been here, Annabeth noticed something:

There, dangling from the last crossbeam of the bridge, was a noose, innocently waiting for whoever its occupant was to come along.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _ **And that ends the Lightning Thief arc, which also sets up the next arc, this one centering around**_ **Black Lagoon** _ **material and involves episodes 11 and 12 of the anime.**_

 _ **Also, that described childhood of Reyna and Hylla back up top? Yeah, that is still a paradise compared to**_ **Son of Jashin** _ **. I still haven't given you guys a full rundown of everything Sally tried to do to kill her son, and she came up with some things.**_

 _ **Well, I did, but you get the idea.**_

 _ **Anyway, I said a bit back that after the Lightning Thief arc, I'd shelve this and go to**_ **Transcendence** _ **, so here's the crossroads:**_

 _ **Continue with this through the next arc, or go to**_ **AC:T** _ **?**_

 _ **Let me know in the Reviews after making sure to Fav and Follow!**_

 _ **And feel to guess as to whether or not Annabeth is the Lightning Thief in this story, and if she is,**_ _ **why**_ _ **is she?**_


End file.
